Iqra

Winner of the DISQUIET Prize for Poetry

By IQRA KHAN

Watch the poet read from this piece at our Issue 28 launch party:

I begin as revelation. As explosion of glottal light against silence.
I am again asking for directions to the Haram, my ankles fluent in Arabic.

I am again asking for direction, ya Haram, my ankles flowing with Arabic!
Hagar, watch how God transforms this wilderness to civilization.

Hagar, our God transcends form and the wilderness of civilization.
A prophet migrates when the symptoms of sand and water say run.

A poet migrates until the syntax of sand and water says breathe.
All sky is blue and passable at home for summer.

All sky is blue and passable for home in summer.
Capitulation is to burn—a candle is a mouth on fire.

Capitulation is to burn a candle for a town on fire.
I have come this far to augment God embroidered in my throat.

I have come too far as argument. God borders in my throat.
I end as revelation, as expulsion of glottal light. And then, silence.

 

Iqra Khan is a Pushcart-nominated poet, winner of the 2024 DISQUIET Prize in poetry and the Frontier Global Poetry Prize 2022. Her poems appear in Indiana Review, Denver Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Southeast Review, The Adroit Journal, Salt Hill Journal, swamp pink, The Rumpus, Apogee, and Palette Poetry, among other journals.

[Purchase Issue 28 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Iqra

Related Posts

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller

Book cover of Fifty Mothers

Mother is a Kind of Holding: Jenny Qi interviews Preeti Vangani

PREETI VANGANI
With vignettes, I could plumb its narrative arc to become a force propelling the book forward. It also felt haunting yet warm that the mothers kept reappearing throughout the life of this grief. That repetition created a chorus of voices that angers and despairs, yet cradles the speaker.

May 2026 Poetry Feature: Arielle Hebert, from Bottom Feeders

ARIELLE HEBERT
Home again at the water’s edge, / palms dancing in salt breeze. / I take a too-deep breath / and the air prickles my lungs / like an unfiltered cigarette. / Only the tourists are swimming, / coughing through the algal bloom, / eyes bloodshot and skin burning.