Zehwah Sheikh

It was roughly ten hours too early for Private First Class James C. Bartholomew to be marching.

Dear Mr. Shabazz— 

I knew you were going to be my hero 
The moment my APUSH teacher scoffed at you 
And dismissed you as "violent." 

That's how I knew you were important. 

I'm holding your frail body by its throat.
Ribs showing, spine poking from your back,
More skeleton than flesh,
You stare back at me.

i blink at the screen.
after all the prompts ive ever read, 
this may be the most outrageous.

i am said to be a writer.
it is true that i think too much
and write too little

I came from mountains.
From the memory of تبدیل,
Of change,
Regurgitated from the depths of what may have been.