CW: Abuse
Read MoreFirst the toes seize up. We triple in size. Cower behind our blue ox. We fasten our fingers over
our mouths so that they may not find us by our breathing.
Read MoreBy Israeli-born poet Lee Broda
Acre, Israel
Last Time I Checked, I Was Still an Israeli
My Aleppian Legacy
Read MoreShe marinates my petaling skin,
with Vicks Vaporub. The cracks stop
at my stomach, to reveal a slick
oasis made by her calloused fingertips.
Read MoreThis is what we fell into.
That’s why we take the stairs two at a time, we destroy the surveillance cameras, confiscate all the guns aimed at us, shut off all your alarms, and we speak.
Read More