Poetry

Mouse

Disney stuck an explosive in the mascot’s mouth, lit it up, then pop, smiled at his blackface in the mirror

Mermaid Camp

I’m an eel until I inhale water—then I am messy, lightheaded—like after too much laughing or kissing.

Nakba

This language tastes like songs of my sedo and before, days when land was soft beneath bare feet, before bombshells bore into ground, before bullet skins showered seeds in the dust.