Amit Majmudar


Emily Dickinson Opines on the NSA

I emailed—Poems—to myself—
I texted—Strangers—Lines—
For Readers—much like Terrorists—
Were very hard—to find—

But now it seems—my Collected Works—
Are in an Archive—crammed—
I wonder—have my Rhyme Schemes pleased—
The Ear—of Uncle Sam?

Emily Dickinson Crushes on Edward Snowden

I love—his pasty Skin—
His Glasses—Intellectual—
And most of all—his Lips—that blew—
A Whistle—Ineffectual—

If Amherst—were in Russia—
Then He—were here with Me—
We two Recluses—snowed in—
A wintry Privacy—

No News

All news about the war is old.
We know but hide it with the news.
No more all caps, no more in bold,
All news about the war is old.
The horror story leaves us cold.
It does not thrill, instruct, amuse.
We know about it. War gets old.
Nuisances don’t make the news.

All wars, in time, share space with peace.
What we call “peace” is piecemeal war
A peaceful nation never sees.
A timely war can spice a peace—
As long as it is overseas
And, given time, can be ignored.
These wars are of a piece with peace.
This nation is at peace with war.


Amit Majmudar is a diagnostic nuclear radiologist who lives in Columbus, Ohio, with his wife and three children. His poetry and prose have appeared in The New York Times, The New Yorker, The Atlantic Monthly, The Best American Poetry anthology (2007, 2012), The Best of the Best American Poetry 1988-2012, Poetry Magazine, Poetry Daily, and several other venues, including the 11th edition of the Norton Introduction to Literature. His first poetry collection, 0′, 0′, was released by Northwestern in 2009 and was a finalist for the Poetry Society of America’s Norma Faber First Book Award. His second poetry collection, Heaven and Earth, was selected by A. E. Stallings for the 2011 Donald Justice Prize. He blogs for the Kenyon Review and is also a critically acclaimed novelist. Visit for details.