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Issue 19 Cover.jpg

Fahmidan Journal / Issue 19 

Weeping for What Was Stolen

By: Talicha J.

we’ve been taught to ignore foreign blood, death, displaced

[flesh]

laid out nameless as numbers & covered in shrouds

[pressed]

wrinkle-free, pristine before all that life seeped in

[to]

the grain of its fabric, the streets, a mother’s arms

[warm]

and weeping for what was stolen, stained a shade of

[grief]

that will never come out no matter how it’s washed

[stained]

black folk poured onto pavement beneath a blue knee–

[deep]

bruise spread like a table for repass; we don’t eat

[like] 

the brown bodies who broke past border, forced to up-

[root]

self from homeland for safety only to find myth

[made]

the american dream less bullet riddled, more

[home]

sweet home, but it smells bitter here, everyone is

[sick]  


flesh pressed to warm grief, stained deep like root made homesick




Note: A ribcage is a poetic form invented by poet, Athena Liu, consisting of 24 lines alternating between 12-syllable lines and a monosyllabic word in brackets. At the end of the text, the bracketed words — or spine — are read from top to bottom.

Talicha J.

Author / 

Talicha J. is a Black queer poet and teaching artist. She's a Pushcart Prize nominee and a Collaborating Fellow at The Poetry Lab. Her work has been published in several literary magazines, and her chapbook "Taking Back the Body" is now out with Beyond the Veil Press (2024).

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