Maryam draws inspiration from her diasporic Trinidadian-Indian and Indonesian tribal heritage.

What of the fisherman skulks / in your heart? / What husks of hull sit rusting / ironed dull by sea over / sand over sea?

We try on bodies—like them, long / for them—then try others. Somewhere / between hunger and earnest thirst, / we shapeshift.

Love leaves me whole, / a pockmarked moon. / Pared wounds knitted together / by chewing ants, each / champing tiny jaws over my flesh.

In a bathtub / rimmed in lime / basil salts, I take / a spoon

I used to sew / along the edge of my body / – to interrupt / the Mare unraveling / my stitched skin.

There are two elements: / The voice and the wilderness of / Ocean — both thoroughly defined / though one, more wholly —

there is a sun behind you as hollow as the sound from / within your claims to the land it sets on kranti weeps not within

I am tremendous fun at dinner parties / I say this as a joke but it’s true, I talk / and hardly pause for breath, a ticking metronome / of story punchline setup story and only rest a moment