“When I find the first letter” by Aiya Sakr

When I find the first letter   in the garden among the green beans I try to ignore it think           it a weed          it grows and    grows blank                ink a foot         off the raised bed tail like                   a flaccid flag   this ي               I have thought expected someone would  find me                 letters turn to rot                 Read more

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“Casting Runes” by Rasha Abdulhadi

these marks upon my arms are not for charms or meant to be charming, they are not for protection, not for kurt cobain, and though i like it when a friend asks if this one on my left hand is a dandelion seed, it is not a symbol for that either. these are a bridge Read more

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“Blood Suck” by Samah Fadil

Her fangs came out at night rows along the highway blood burst out in spurts the evil in the details Her sisters entrenched in the sight saw devils challenge desperate fight Stars gleaming, pointed, sharp punctured through stillness of dark Serrated blades, each pearl a sin tearing through her soft fleshed kin Rabid as a Read more

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“Captain’s Log” by Fargo Tbakhi

CAPTAIN’S LOG ABOARD THE GOOD SHIP PALESTINE; CAPTAIN ON ROTATION FOR WEEK OF 13/02/2148: TBAKHI, WAJIEH   Antenna is broke. Have requested Nadia assemble crew for repair. Communications spotty at best. Need part but do not have in supplies. Outlook poor. Left engine is broke. Some rumbling and shudder and we shifted off course. Naturally Read more

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“Single Witness” by Layla Azmi Goushey

In the beginning was the Abyss I awakened soon after A hero’s jewel clutched in my fist My finger pointing, lips moving, but silent The words would not come I lit a candle and lamented I worshipped my disillusion as I would a martyred saint By the light of the altar I recognized no kindred Read more

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“rise” by Sarah Risheq

I can’t tell if these are bones. Bones piled up on top of each other. Will they ever dig us out? Find what emerges, the stories, the dark and the light? A boneyard. The earth lays with open wounds, waiting to be filled with us alive. This mud made us, and now will protect us Read more

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“The Night Journey” by Samah Fadil

The pen exploded through her crisp white shirt. The ink bled through and spread like the microcosm of a galaxy onto the polyester, and the girl remembered her small thumbs staining as she held a copy of the newspaper. Her grandmother demanded she read it when the girl visited her in Gaza in the summer Read more

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