I saw the wind

by Ava Lalezarzadeh
12/08/2021

Hurts 

Your deep hot flesh is a furnace 

To warm the arthritis of my heart

Your voice crackles 

like a fire laughing at its own flame 

as it dies. 

you and I both know we’re dying. 

The static in the phone line. 

boy, it’s loud. 

Somewhere between the Mediterranean and New York 

The static in our phone lines got louder and louder. Until the only thing static, 

was us. 

That’s when I learned 

Static moves fast so fast that you miss it.

Because next time you call, 

Static will be there 

waiting to answer you.

ARTICLES / POETRY

From the Grape Vines

by Noura Smiley
03/06/2021

I lose myself in a dream of home.
It is here where I learned the difference
between connected and attached. 

My heart hangs
from the grape vines
that lead to you 
and for once,
we speak the same language. 

I eagerly breathe 
the same air you do 
even if it burns me 
because you are
what I am 
nothing without. 

Suffering is transient
but our essence lingers. 

What is better,
to be fortunate or real?

When I close my eyes,
I smell the coffee and cigarettes
and see that imaginary line 
between nostalgia and regret. 

And for a moment,
lost in this illusion of home,
I find solace from myself.

No longer a trespasser, 
I can share your heartbreak 
and not because I want to,
but because I am close to you. 

I want to be close to you.