Calling from the BKK by Irma Kiss Baráth

Poem title: Calling from the BKK Poet name: Irma Kiss-Baráth Poem: After Hoa Nguyen’s “Stripes on My Shirt Like Migratory Birds” Out of sliding metro doors (larded and queued) I slip with my bottle of poor sparkling water. Objects also get heatstroke I bitch (sound in my cheeks) about the heat and also the noise beating down. On the way up the stairs I pause for boys with pocket knives my eyes my feminine noising for strangers. I exhale and we the capital gulp together. Cars wash by, smell like piss hot pepper for lipping down the street. I follow crusted manholes to the square, super deep red noise for my perky steps. Man outside the market asks me is this the way to Budapest and I am for a moment (in this city’s heartfolds) a Hungarian, stunned. End of Poem. Credits: Copyright © Irma Kiss-Baráth Irma Kiss-Baráth is a high school senior from Vancouver, BC. Her work is published or forthcoming in Lithium Magazine, Hominum Journal, 1455 Literary Arts, and more. She is an alumna of the 2020 Adroit Summer Mentorship Program and a staff writer at Ex/Post Magazine.