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within the throat prior to a cry. It’s my father,
converting his god as a result of my mom requested.
After the baptism, his curly hair rainy and
chilly like an animal stuck out within the snow.
Fleeing from my grandmother, who rushed
after him with butcher knives now not but cleaned
of pigeon meat, the untucked bits of her

hijab licking the air at the back of her like a shadow.
You want to return to Egypt, she had stated.
Once in a while, house isn’t a house, however a claw
lodged within you. A river you step into as a result of
it holds gentle. You might be waist deep, wading
in what mauls you and in addition

what loves you. You allow house and turn out to be
riptide. What I’ve turn out to be has beheaded
what I used to be prior to. I raise the top, knocked
unfastened and bodiless, as I might a plum,
cautious to not weigh down it in my palm, cautious
to not gag its cry.

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