and intends to spend the rest of her life in them.
They never asked me why I grew no beard, no
whiskers on my chin, why my face is skinny like a
girl’s. Never looked to see where I went to
pee, never saw me squat behind dirt piles, apart from
trenches dank with stench. Never asked why I
grunted when they spoke in my direction, my
turbaned head wordless and low.
I sat on earth for meals with them, their beards
tangled with dust and sweat. We molded bricks and
fired these as our ancestors did, each hour of toil
measured in milliemes and piastres, our leather hands
counting coins when the sun shimmied itself to sleep
and we shouldered tools at dusk on different paths
to villages and rest.
Abu Daooh to my daughter Houda. I say my name as I
undress: Abu Daooh when the clothes fall from my back and
legs, from my small breasts flat and sad. I say my name to me
alone in bed, to pillow, walls, and windows black. I had no
school, never held a book, but had a husband
once, and held him in my arms, and when he died, I
kept his clothes.
LIVE EVENT: Reading Tea Leaves After Trump
Pasadena, Los Angeles, Thursday, January 25, 2018 6:00-8:00 PM
- LIVE: Meet the artist, Altadena Poet Laureate Thelma T. Reina.
- Behold: Protest Performance Art and author book signing!
- Meet ten local poets chosen to perform sections of the new book!
- Thursday, Jan. 25th, 6:00-8:00 PM
- Wright Auditorium (FREE)
- Pasadena Central Library
- 285 East Walnut Street
- Pasadena, CA 91101
- (626) 744-4066
|You guys making fun of me?|
|Reading Tea Leaves After Trump|
*Egyptian woman dressed like man for more than 40 years to provide for family