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TCE Poetry: You Can’t Take Everything With You
my father stands over twelve carry on bags, assigns responsibilities. he is to carry four at the same time, I am to carry a backpack and the heaviest bag, a […]
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TCE Poetry: the uber driver does not ask if I speak arabic
the uber driver does not ask if I speak arabic, he just starts talking. he tells me he’s been here for three months, with his wife and two kids. he’s […]
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TCE Poetry: When My Father Calls, I Can Hear The Weather Channel In The Background
he says a big storm is coming tonight, let me pick you up. I am stubborn. I say tomorrow there is a midterm, I cannot study at home, do not […]
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TCE Poetry: Incomplete List of Items Left Behind
every scientific american edition between 1982 to 1988, translated to arabic. when my father was young and single, with one mouth to feed, he bought scientific american monthly. fuel cells, […]
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TCE Poetry: On Whatsapp My Mother Reminds Me That I Haven’t Visited in Three Weeks
She is making yebra for dinner, will I come home for that at least? Yes, I will, I say. I stand in the hallway untying my boots. My father under […]
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TCE Poetry: …And We Love Life/If We Can Find A Way To It
“Syria is a small, poor, and crowded country.” in the morning, my mother smokes a cigarette on the balcony, a coffee and a large glass of water sit idly. as […]
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TCE Poetry: A History Of Us In Movement
when I met her, she stood tall in her poem. moon dangled from back pocket, tides danced back and forth, she is of water, you could tell, emigrated from mountain […]
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TCE Poetry: On Joy
1. when my sister graduates, the whole family does. my father brings the DSLR. we line up, immigrants against a backdrop, ‘you made it.’ 2. when I graduate, I tell […]
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TCE Poetry: A Map Of The Night Sky When/You Told Me That You Loved Me
the moon audacious and full / lake reflection lavish / we of the kings that named the stars / love forbidden on our own tongues / fingers tracing new lines […]
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TCE Poetry: Walking Through Downtown Kitchener, Fifty Dollar Bill In My Front Pocket
an evening’s pay. a twinge of heart. my fingers flirt with its deep red, skim the unfamiliar face. it is a 30-minute walk to the bus terminal and 30 minutes […]
