I did not realize that it was a gene

Passed down from your mother to you, then to me.


Isolation in the form of small fingers wrapped

Around my own,

Stuck inside these four walls

Tiny shrill screams inside a tiny home.


A piece of advice,

Passed down from your mother to you, then to me,

'You should get a TV, it can be good company’

I get my daughter ready for bed.
I change her diaper,
Put her in a fuzzy and warm sleeper,
Brush her teeth while singing her the ABC’s.
I let her pick out her bedtime story,
Her favorite?
Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?
She excitedly points out the animals’
Eyes, tail, fur, or wings.
I kiss her goodnight.
I tuck her in tight.

I try to imagine being you,
But I cannot for too long.
A mother just like me,
Living in Palestine.
Your own mother long gone,
Wearing her old house-key around your neck.
Your own child in your arms,
As you rock and rock
Such a small body that doesn’t breathe.
I try to imagine saying goodnight
For the last time.

I do not know your name,
But I do know you.
I can feel you.
Your pain. Your anguish. Your rage.
Your want to ruin the world
For letting this happen.

I too wish I could ruin the world for you.

When you speak to me my teeth ache
Our sweet fantasy has begun to decay

I took his hand
He led me into the water
Wrapped his fingers around my throat
“I love it when you choke”

I want the apple,
I want the snake.
I want my fruitful bite to take.

I want to swallow,
Naked and unashamed.

The juice dribbling down my chin,
Defiance has always been my biggest sin.

There.
Right below my sternum,
That’s where you want to make the incision.

Cut it out of me, please.
I want to see if this dark thing inside of me
Is as ugly as it feels.

I am hurting inside.
I want to let it out.
But it has nowhere to go.