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1 day ago

Rusted Radishes

"i could call parts of the atmosphere mine because it too, holds ghosts. but i look up there with less fear than the people who look like me but live farther away can. i’ll never know the earth the way they do. my parents still do, with their thicker tongues & vibrant throat pulsars, radiating. they say “falling stars” not “shooting stars” & then they say prayers. i know this yet still feel owed a wish. or a flying saucer. or a beam of light. something both here & not & something leaving flowers growing in its shadow -- a bed of softness i mistake for my skin & oh god maybe they’re still circling the block, waiting for me to look away. they might have all the information they need."
• Excerpt from “i need everything to be meaningful at all times or i can’t get out of bed” by Lebanese poet Jess Rizkallah. Read more on www.hobartpulp.com/web_features/three-poems--67
• Digital collage, “Mazaj-Mood”, by Ayham Jabr. Jabr’s work is featured in our 6th issue. Read more about him on www.rustedradishes.com/mazaj-mood/

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