Get our latest essays, archival selections, reading lists, and exclusive content delivered straight to your inbox.
Strange plastic act,
strange heart, my obscenities
trail after, snag my sleeves.
The clipped response,
the pointless good mornings. Good
to know the distinction, that
moldy house, that yard
full of rust and trash,
that front door, always, a small
light outside dim and lasting.
I keep my distance.
Discrepancy, you are a bird circling
the room, each day, each day.
Vital reading on politics, literature, and more in your inbox. Sign up for our Weekly Newsletter, Monthly Roundup, and event notifications.
Both regulators and employers have embraced new technologies for on-the-job monitoring, turning a blind eye to unjust working conditions.
But I do miss the hymns, / the small, hard apples with their dimpled skin. I do miss / things.
The vast hinterlands of the Global South’s cities are generating new solidarities and ideas of what counts as a life worth living.