en route to nowhere


in the corner of the metro station

people whisper half-truths to each other.

bodies become shadows;

become promises no one will keep.


a man sits up in his blanket, stares at a glow in his hands,

at the only light

in a city that has forgotten him.


we speak of austen under a ten pm candle,

something moves and it doesn’t matter.


a song plays, and asks for promises,

barely heard over a seven-year-old

going about her palm sized life.


bloodlessness has hollowed us out,

everything is impossible

except in sleep

there, the non being compensates.




by Saadia Peerzada


Saadia Peerzada is a student of English at Ashoka University. Her work has appeared in Inverse Journal, Proseterity, and The Sunflower Collective.