Art by Marina Marinksy
Hard Fruit
This morning, when I told you
that I’d dreamt
the theocracy had been declared—
and the internet was down
and it was no longer safe
to say ‘freedom’
in a song or slogan,
or even on the phone—
you just nodded
and said you’d woken,
sweating and shaking,
after dreaming of breaking
all your front teeth on a hard,
red apple from Kashmir.
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