Poetry by K. Dulai

The memory of war 
leaves a dangerous salt. I catch 
the brain between my personalities
and hide from victory’s fulcrum,

burying myself in the wilderness
before a doddering death can
find me. You too can breathe 
yourself giddy in soil.

Day or night I can rise 
like the holy, shriek rapturously
under sky’s light. I teach 
the ghosts of life a healthy fear

of survival. That bending of unnatural light.

K. Dulai is a native New Yorker who now lives in California. She is a 2022 and 2023 VONA alum in poetry and experimental writing. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Passengers Journal, Pretty Owl Poetry, trampset, Glass Poetry: Poets Resist, The Citron Review, and other publications.

Photo by Visax on Unsplash