My knife slid
like a silver
fish through
cardiac tissue
veins for
green pond scum
arteries still
pulsing, screaming
raw against their
mortality
i cut your heart,
my heart, into
slices as thin
as deli meat
slid it between
sheaves of
buttered bread
and washed it
down with
masala chai
possession is love,
my love, and
love is God
so perhaps
God is the scarlet
at my mouth’s
corner
perhaps God
is bread
and jam
Dia Bhojwani is a seventeen-year-old writer, editor, and activist from Mumbai, India. They’ve received awards from the Seamus Heaney Center, Lune Spark, and Wingword, and most recently, were the recipient of the 2021 Claudia Ann Seaman Prize for fiction. They’ve been published in a range of literary magazines and periodicals, including Polyphony Lit, Parallax, The Hearth, and The Punch Magazine. Their first book, the Pandemic Diaries, was published in January 2021. They enjoy Richard Siken, Hawaiian pizza and stand-up comedy.