by Mohammed Ahmad<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Grief coils like smoke on my bleached tongue,
\nNot for the dead, but for the selves I\u2019ve executed quietly
\nin the empty hours of dusk,
\nwhere the dogs lay and where I am awakened
\nby the sour scent of a dreamers musk
\nA lover of sorts, but never the one who is loved
\nA willful child with a small smile,
\nstacked up like bricks in the cavity of my chest,
\nI grieve the children who bellowed their reasons like sunbirds
\nThe children who moved through the world
\nwith a hurricane-like mind,
\nTheir eyes milk white, and unblinking,
\nTheir teeth unspoken truths, their hands,
\na thousand small graves,
\nclawing at my ribs,
\nknell after knell,
\nA borrowed breath,
\nAnd you still call this living
\n <\/p>\n
Mohammed Ahmad is a Palestinian-American poet based in Los Angeles. He holds a Master of Arts in Professional Creative Writing, with an emphasis in poetry, from the University of Denver. Alongside his poetry, Ahmad works as an actor and an independent journalist. He is the co-founder of Poets for Palestine, a monthly open mic series with six chapters nationwide, dedicated to poetic resilience and to building a community of poets and artists across the country.<\/p>\n