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Janine Mogannam

When I am asked How Are You?? during the genocide of my people

By Janine Mogannam “I’m
pretty awful, all things considered. A few weeks ago
I couldn’t eat anything and now I’m constantly starving.
I know that’s a terrible thing to say.
I think my house plants might be dying but I’m not really sure?
They’re sad and limp-necked. I guess that’s a metaphor.
Summer Farah


By Summer Farah My beloved city. We are the lucky ones. We worship a woman immortalized by stone, her trek impossible now. Our realms are severed by sky. Oh, what blood have we forgotten? Even when the sun sets the same monsters patrol our streets.
Kat Abdallah


By Kat Abdallah My teachers ask me
after seven months of genocide
if I’m holding up alright.
Issam Zineh

Form & Occasion

By Issam Zineh The grammarians are up
in arms, and the war over
the semicolon has been reignited.

Today, the legislator notes his preference
for certain kinds of killers. Those,
one might say, with a European sensibility.
Edward Salem

Exile’s Terrarium

By Edward Salem I’d planned a sculpture called
Getting Home, built from
my land in Palestine—
soil, shrubbery, stones,
an entire olive tree

chopped and dissected
into shippable parts
and air mailed in boxes
to my home in Detroit.
A.D. Lauren-Abunassar

What the Fish Say / Over There

By A.D. Lauren-Abunassar My godson wanted to go look at fish but I told him, today, beauty is canceled. We cried. I felt bad. I counted the unbeautiful like broken ribs. Shrapnel in the olive tree. Child-sized tourniquet. Saint Porphyrius’ watching and weeping. My father phones to tell me they’re down to vinegar; they pour into open wounds.
Ghinwa Jawhari

the butcher

By Ghinwa Jawhari who loved my mother owned a shop on almira street & hung
among the glamorous posters of arabic singers, a black-and-white
photograph of muhammad al-durrah’s murder.
Jessica Abughattas

Litany for My Father

By Jessica Abughattas Because curfews of
Because strip search at the checkpoint into
Because grandmother’s undergarments splayed on
Because two men with guns on the way to
Because grandmother saves plastic Coke liters to
Because the water could without notice be
Glenn Shaheen


By Glenn Shaheen Somebody suggested I buy pickled
Herring in wine sauce— it didn't sound
Like a bad idea, all these conversations
Mired in capital's sloughed-off flesh.
Lara Atallah

meat market

By Lara Atallah after Lebanon, a country with one of the worst economic crises since the nineteenth century

the price of bread has gone up again. throngs of cars
slouch towards shuttering gas stations. the currency, a farce

with each swing of the gavel, numbers
soar. fifty thousand pounds by day’s end,

what’s another ten thousand? or a hundred thousand?
a hundred and forty thousand pounds to the dollar?
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