Amrita Noor

On Longing

after Agha Shahid Ali

In this lane
near Darbār Sāhib 

where my lover folds
his turban, softly,

its sour crimson stains
him without warning, 

the past wetting his palm
like a dog pissing on 

a canary’s tree. My
lover, ten fingers & 

ten toes, once pissed
himself at the sight 

of a stallion raising his
feet. Soldier: a name 

for men whose only
lovers are the shadows 

they carry. My lover’s
beard cropped close, 

as though the razor is
lingering. Once a boy, 

he witnessed two shadows
bring metal to his sister’s 

skull, faces extinguished
in skin-taut ignominy.

Now, my lover hacks
apart his ten toes & 

ten fingers, throws his
knuckles to the dogs. 

I am fond. I smile, &
recite my prayer for our 

offering. Everything not
touched becomes every 

thing touching. I must
complete this couplet:

I partition my phalanx.
He wraps my stump in frayed 

cotton, a body for a body.
His voice halts when asked

to name his violences. I dare
not inform him we have 

outlived everything but
each other: a life for a life,

a longing for a longing.

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Amrita Noor was born in Ludhiana, Punjab. Her work appears or is forthcoming in The Harvard Advocate, Trampset, The Poetry Society and more. Someday, she will be able to write in every language in which she dreams.