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.