Walking in Marrakech
by Kendra Poole | June 14, 2016 | Africa, Morocco, Poetry | 0 Comments
Walking in Marrakech An afternoon coated with raw meat, curry, urine, leather, donkey shit. Multilingual chatter of the souk: so many bells and wagon wheels, motorcycles and metal welders and, in the thick of it all, the hiss of a cobra. Henna designs spilling up...Hurricane Sandy
by Kendra Poole | June 13, 2016 | North America, Poetry, USA | 0 Comments
Afterward, we worm into the basement of a Mr. Ted Kessler. He watches us pick apart relic from rubble, relent- less relievers, subduing a hoarseness of tone. Here is his moldy rocking chair. Did he sit here once? To watch the sea romance the sand? We ask now: Does...On Burqas
by Kendra Poole | June 14, 2016 | Europe, Poetry, Turkey | 0 Comments
In Istanbul, the owner of the pashmina shop said, “The body is like a gift between husband and wife.” He said the burqa, the hijab, were like human wrapping paper. I take scarves from the shelf, unfold and refold some, drape the red one over my head, align the...Aphrodite’s Answer
by Kendra Poole | June 14, 2016 | Europe, Greece, Poetry | 0 Comments
after Sappho* Stop your sighs now, friend. Comb your hair, mend your blouse, and quit pandering for pity. I have seen your trembling, knuckles all knotted in nerves. Almost nothing...