By Farah Ghafoor
“migrants” of / waterlogged toes and / fingerprints rubbed off of illegible papers. / everybody scrambling / scrambling / for the dead boy in the water / to build walls once again. / the cameramen are on lifeboats / their arms are wide open but the captain is rowing harder. / this is not morning dew we are drowning in / it is a tsunami current / and it is dusk and / for too long / this water isn’t fresh / and suddenly the world is vigil.
Farah Ghafoor is a fifteen-year-old poet and a founding editor at Sugar Rascals, an online teen literary magazine. She believes that she deserves a cat and/or outrageously expensive perfumes, and can’t bring herself to spend pretty coins. Her work is published in places such as alien mouth, Really System and Synaesthesia, and has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards.