GATES

If you open Sahar Muradi’s [ G A T E S ] and follow each line into the entryways and departures, passed “convention centers and expos / and festivals that begin at sunset,” you will witness the poet’s memories as tiny explosions of intimacies that devastate with their precision and candor. On images of Ferris wheels and “prayer on the side of the road,” the poet “kneels and spreads [her] picnic” of wonder. Sahar Muradi makes sense of the fragments of memory, the broken buildings of Kabul, M...