Sanjida Yasmin

Sanjida Yasmin is a poet, painter and a professional educator living in the Northeast. Sanjida earned her B.A. in English and M.F.A. in Creative Writing from the City University of New York.

Sanjida’s poetry has been published in numerous journals, including Pink Panther Magazine, Peacock Journal, The Promethean, Nebo, Panoplyzine, Poetry in Performance, Anomaly, and Triggerfish Critical Review.

•

► Sanjida's microchap & poem selections are available below. Download the single-page PDF by clicking the title & then save the microchap to your files for easier printing.

Origami Microchap

Bickering Echoes

Click title to download PDF microchap

Sanjida Yasmin CVR Bickering Echoes MAY 2019

Cover collage by JanKeough

•

Download every microchap

for free

from this website.

(Set printer for landscape)

bickering echoes

it is not often I see
my Ammu dress up –
only on weddings, holidays & outings

struggles to keep
her magenta silk sari intact
while she gets out of her silver Lexus SUV

she calls for me
to notice how others
are not using forks & knives
while eating brown food

once home, she calls her Ammu
tells her every little detail
that she missed

Grandma says she can’t hear
Ammu repeats, Grandma says,
she still can’t hear clearly.
Ammu’s blood pressure rises
but she continues, again & again—
until Grandma bobs.

because of your void

this week is filled
with Fridays
& French toasts
& horse mushrooms
at the edge of the meadow

people are waiting
for the 6 express
in the station with plugged ears
you are not here, but

I am everywhere,
turning the moonlight
into twilight, that chair
into a sofa, turning
all things into their names.

hoyt avenue

Astoria Boulevard is like a second home—
so is this old Burger King park lot.
the cashier guy smiles & waves
from inside the glass window.
he must know & so does this barren lot
that this wait is for someone special.

I’m here across from the Neptune Diner,
beside this nasty fast food restaurant,
under a periwinkle sky.
come, the throbbing has started.
love, I am waiting for you.

karma lounge

though my memory might be dim,
I remember the red lounge,
the walk back, him. I remember his last
name spelled in tonic,
& the evening moving on a whim
& Bleecker Street
turned into a stream, where
lights of 1st Avenue limned.
his black leather jacket, his military
short hair, chestnut eyes of sin.

•

Poets