By Kristal Peace (This poem contains domestic abuse.) My mother holdsMy hand as we navigateThe city’s streets during rush hour,The song of sirens escorting us home.She holds the grocery bagThat yanks her toward dinner. She holdsThe sharp words my fatherFlings at her when she thinksThe day is going well. She…
by Anonymous We wandered these plains before the civil war, before the prophets told of Nineveh’s fate, from God’s merciful hammer and our mules and camels drank this water long before the royal hanging gardens withered and died from neglect. Before the stateless caliphate thugs held our treasures for ransom…