In the conversation that lasted until 3 AM, she questioned, "Has
not the hour come
to forge a means of connection
that would bridge the chasm between my life and your death?"
and when her mobile screen danced and turned white like a shroud, she hurried to the mirror to
apply her own red lipstick.
but then she remembered
how they wrapped his remains in a shroud stained with the blood of his comrades,
so she adjusted the settings of adoration
and on the anniversary of the cake,
the sole survivor from his birthday party
enlivened by the angel of death,
another shell fell
and put out her final breath -
O Yemeni!
Where do you get all this hope from?
-from my existence.
ago in the presence of future
Saba Hamzah (born 1986) Yemen
Source: International Writers Program, University of Iowa
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