February 2026
Playing Wendy Peffercorn in Santa Fe, NM
poetry by Jasmine KhaliqEnd of May around the bend.
Almost half the year past, what have I done?
Pined a lot, was a little pathetic,
floated down the Rio Grande
in red swimsuit with a friend and some men
I didn’t know well, hot, tired, trying to be myself,
whoever that may be without you to make me.
Today in my white sunglasses, sauntering down the street—
I broke those bad; bent them in half but saved my nose
bumping straight into a sudden sign post.
Good and bad luck—what is owed me?
It’s nice to think there’s an answer
that’s not nothing. The sun at this altitude puts me to sleep.
Every night my nose threatens to bleed.
Do you wonder about it? How I spend my time?
The placement and starkness of my tan lines?
I spent half this trip taking pictures of doors.
Bought postcards I never sent or signed.
At St. Francis’ cathedral I walked the labyrinth humorlessly,
one foot in front of the other, as if on a beam.
I think about you less than I did. Do you believe me?
How soft the edges of every building here seem,
wavering in the heat, pink as my dog’s belly.
I smelled a little like an animal—I wanted to—
let Rain Cloud’s damp floral opening
fade musky and sweet, a day-old baby.
Found new cuts on the shin with which I lead;
dipped into the Rio to wash myself clean.
I was recreating a childhood road trip,
one of the men said. I got poison oak both times.
Oh, to be so lucky, I said, to suffer exactly twice.
Jasmine Khaliq is the author of Somewhere Horses, winner of the Barrow Street Press Editors’ Prize, forthcoming April 2027. Her poetry is found in Best New Poets 2023, 32 Poems, Passages North, The Rumpus, and elsewhere. She holds a BA from San Francisco State University and an MFA from University of Washington, Seattle. Currently, Jasmine is a Ph.D. Candidate in English and Creative Writing at the University of Utah. She can be found at jasminekhaliq.com.