“Alycia Pirmohamed’s astute and moving poems dwell in a longing that’s a ‘pattern embossed’ on the skin. She transfigures yearning into intimacies with family, Canadian prairies, and rain that ‘knows how to fall in Gujarati.’ An intimacy with language is evident on each page: sonic-rich phrasing, imagery that leaps and soars, and an astonishing attentiveness to the line. Pirmohamed is an immensely gifted poet. Her first book is an opening, a marvel.” —Eduardo C. Corral, Guillotine
"In Alycia Pirmohamed’s first full-length collection, Another Way to Split Water, figures split, double, and even shatter through inheritances of migration..."
"This is how Another Way to Split Water moves, wending through ossuaries and great plains, making oxbow lakes of prayers and their origins, bifurcating desire and discovery til each word holds its own river. You will want to map the navigations of these poems. "
—Shivanee Ramlochan, Unkillable
Winner, 2020 Pamet River Prize, Alycia Pirmohamed's debut releases November 15. Go here for 20% off until then!
Say the word dark
translates to how I fold my body
like a fig
against a stippled moon.
Pull a string of sorrows from
Remind me that I am not a swan—
I am a long night of rain
with my mother’s eyes.
Hold my tasbih to my heart.
Imagine we are
elk walking into tall grass.
This dream is the sky opening.
This dream is a river of faces.
This dream is all of the pine trees
replaced with smoke.
I call out to the water and the wind
scatters my thoughts,
fashions distances within me.
I call out Allah—
if I look up, I see a ghost
in the canopy.