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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

AT NIGHT, THE WIFE MAKES HER POINT   No I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s legs I haven’t spent my life walking down runways in fashion shows, dazzled under the glaring lights of photographers My legs broaden as they reach the hip and in spite of my multiple efforts to don aerobic gear, work out and sweat, I  can’t control their tendency to widen like pillars ready to support a roof   No I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s waist nor her perfectly smooth and slightly concave tummy with the flawless navel at the center I might have had it once Once I  was even proud of that part of my anatomy That was before my son´s birth, before he decided to be born in haste and come into the world feet first, before the C-section and the scar   No I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s arms tanned, sculpted, each muscle shaped by the right exercise, the precisely balanced weights My slim arms have no more muscles than what are needed to type these characters, carry my children, brush my hair, gesticulate when I envision the future, or embrace my friends   No I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s breasts ample, round, C or B cup Mine are not so appealing in low cut dresses in spite of my mother’s assurance -a mother’s words- that breasts like mine, with no cleavage, had the classical beauty of Milo’s Venus     Ah! And the face How would I dare say I have a face like Cindy Crawford’s! The beauty mark just at the corner of the mouth Such impeccable features: the big eyes, the arched eyebrows, the delicate nose Out of habit, I’ve come to like my face: the elephant’s eyes, the nose with its flaring nostrils, the full lips, sensuous nevertheless All is spared with the help of the mane In this department, I can even beat Cindy Crawford I wonder if this affords you any consolation   Last, but not least, -and this is the weightiest piece of evidence- I don’t have Cindy Crawford’s behind: small, round, each half exquisitely outlined Mine is stubbornly ample, big, amphora or clay vase, take your pick, there is no way to hide it, all I can do is not to be shy about it use it to my advantage to sit comfortably and read, or be a writer   But tell me, how often have you had Cindy Crawford at your feet? How often has she given you

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


READ NEXT

feature

May 2013

Haneke's Lessons

Ricky D'Ambrose

feature

May 2013

‘Art is there to have a stimulating effect, if it earns its name. You have to be honest, that’s...

Prize Entry

April 2017

/gosha rubchinskiy/

Christopher Burkham

Prize Entry

April 2017

1. APARTMENT INTERIOR/MORNING/BELYAYEVO, MOCKBA, ROSSIJSKAJA FEDERACIJA…   There is a T-shirt on the desk in front of him.  ...

poetry

October 2013

Steam

Jon Stone

poetry

October 2013

Steam in the changing rooms, stripping off after the race, breathes like an engine. The air is filled up...

 

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