Tomorrow will mark a year since I had my stroke. It's an occasion that, according to my daughter, Ginny, I should view as important. But I've spent enough time staring at death; I don't want to think ... [+]
Originally published in Husnaa Hashim's debut chapbook collection, Honey Sequence, published by The Head & The Hand Press in collaboration with the Free Library of Philadelphia.
Noun. Consistency in one's personhood regardless of externalities.II cannot escape theveil on my headfabric I draped at the age of nine when I was taught towrap myself in expectationthe coffee of my skinbitterness of flesh when Itry to scratch the pain awayor the almond of my eyepointed ovals floating between starsencrusted in a ring of a lighter brownbut stillI do not know who I amthelonger I allow the sadness to sink inthe more I lose myselfthe more I becomethe problemis staying in this body for a wasteful lifetimeIIMy mother:my mother grew up overseasshe taught me how to crack Persian anar