occupier artclass

window is cracked
open to let fresh air in. outside
sunny schoolyard under

lovely cloudless sky,
the kind of blue begging
to be licked and torn asunder
by hungry jets of orange
flame, filled with thick black
plane-crash plumes of
billowing smoke.

same way soft olive
infant skin cries out for
sumac blooms, for white
bone split by gleaming
steel-toed boots.

these shades belong
together, brighter
juxtaposed. says it
right there in the text
book. close instruction
rears our best. shining
chosen children

nursed with blood-laced
milk. whet the appetite
young and they will paint
in hues they know and
they will eat the world.

Letter from Baba

Dear বাচ্চারা,

Sorry I didn’t know how to be a father. Didn’t realise it meant more than being there. In
my defense, see verb: “He fathered those children” = the originating act, the siring. I
fathered, definitionally. Blame the man in charge of writing English dictionaries.

Blame my father. Didn’t distinguish being a father from a great civil servant. Endless
workdays and conspicuous absence; fatherhood as father-shaped hole. Figured raising
the country trickled down to its children. Didn’t stick around to check, but I’m sure he
reared well.

Your mother tried to counsel, but I brushed her off. What could a woman say of men’s
work? Didn’t understand there are ways to know a father without cramming into his
Oxfords. That the view could be clearer standing outside his shadow.

Didn’t mean to start hitting. I told your mother once I could count on one hand the times
my father held me. Could you believe the open palm against your cheek was a degree
of force from cupping, cradling? When I lunged at you, I was trying to cross the ocean.

Writing to ask for your forgiveness. Even though you’re older now, not cute anymore, I’d
like to be around now. Even though you’re not cute anymore, you’ll always be mine. I’ll
always be your father. Faaaather. Hm. These days it finally feels more like a title than a
brand.

With hope,
বাবা

Sahar Choudhury writes from Leesburg, Virginia. Winner of the 2025 LCPL
Poetry Contest, national NEHS Flash Fiction Challenge (twice), and
Dandelion Press Micro-Fiction contest, among others, they are a veritable
contest fiend. You can find Sahar frantically typing policy memos, designing
synth sounds, or writing– if not in Leesburg, check Bangladesh.
@Saharscho on Bluesky.

Featured image “Alexandre Thomas Francia A Still Life of Letters, Cards, an Envelope, a Pencil, a Match and a Cigar Stub 1880” drawn by Alexandre Thomas Francia (French, ca. 1820-1884) to be licensed via creative commons 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons.