bodies
peace weaver,
after death
will be: flesh
fields, skulled skies—
bodies to habitate—
gravel teeth
or cliffed bones.
sliced in half;
rivers from
winter-sad
eyes. cast up
by dusted
hands; just laugh,
even you—
ribs, sweat—
were created.
Midhat Ansar is a current MFA Poetry student. She enjoys writing about friends, family, cats, mythology and strangers. She finds human connection, both direct and indirect fascinating.