Dena Afrasiabi has recently watched the sun set between two continents in Istanbul, Turkey and visited a medieval Swedish prison that was once home to a famous cross-dressing thief with excellent culinary skills. Her work has been featured or is forthcoming in Enizagam, Kartika Review, Prick of the Spindle and Tremors: New Fiction by Iranian-American Writers. She holds an MFA from Rutgers University and writes and resides in Austin, Texas.
The local tour guide believes in leather boots with wide toes. Sturdy soles. Protein for breakfast.
The young sailor said he would give me a modicum of love if I let him use my body as a harbor.
The ticket seller would prefer to meet the guests outside, order them shortest to tallest, take the most boisterous by the hand.
The skull-like villa lost in a garden of dreams, so seem the isle’s cimitero:
I have fallen in love with winter, / with the day that ends at 3:45 in the afternoon. // with the man striding along the path grasping / a pink plastic bag that glows incandescent / although it only contains dish soap / and the cat food he carries home after work …
...you wonder again about the soul, / Where it hides, where it ventures. / There's always one you have to bring to oblivion...
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