Ghinwa Jawhari
(pretend; تظاهر)

what a doll i was those years after the towers
fell. i went blonde as one goes insane, womaned
with a new name, an easy olio for the tongues

that tsk'd me. gone were the guttural
consonants, the hairs connecting my brows.
i starved my hips. i wore english like a ring

until men begged my father for my hand.
i detached my hand & gave it to him, a fishing
lure. a prophet arrived to open the leaves of me.

his cat-tongue barbed for bone. we pilgrimaged
after the fete, as if we had land to return to.
we spoke of the city as our parents

knew it: beirut's 60s, glistening
bodies destined for martyrdom,
radio static, glass bottles of pepsi.

we uttered only words we knew
sang only songs we remembered.
everyday i used the wrong type of rice.

we decorated our home in tourist flags.
a blue eye hung over our door,
reflecting the eyes of the street.
from the book BINT / Radix Media
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In "tazahar / (pretend; تظاهر)," the speaker contemplates a future with “a prophet” that’s earned her father’s approval. Survival in America happens through tradition, reimagining a home country only “as [their] parents knew it.” The poem suspends the speaker in a perpetual in-between, the "blue eyes" of the street suggestive of a permanent, biological divide that—for all their efforts—cannot be mitigated. They still won't have "land to return to." 

Ghinwa Jawhari on "Tazahar"
Portrait of Shakespeare from the title page of the first folio
"Shakespeare as the Man in the Crowd"

"The parish was ‘a thriving, wealthy, bustling community of perhaps 550-650 people,' writes Marsh: ‘It was full of wealthy merchants, textile traders and leatherworkers, with a scattering of MPs, gentry and artists.’ These were Shakespeare’s neighbours, who lived and worked around him as he wrote Romeo and Juliet, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and The Merchant of Venice."

via SPECTATOR
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Cover of Robert Hayden's Collected Poems
What Sparks Poetry:
Rion Scott on Robert Hayden's "Those Winter Sundays"


"I often think about the precision in Hayden's language. The words that take on the work of casting several meanings. 'What did I know, what did I know/of love’s austere and lonely offices?' I know all the words he used, but in this formation, with the repetition, the odd use of the word 'offices' and its proximity to the words 'austere' and 'lonely,' the words seem alien and strange in the best way."
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