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Again: A Poem About Ashura

by Abeer Ameer Again, Ashura eulogies bleed pens dry. Loss envelops mourning recalling that fateful morning reborn are tales of tragedy. I wonder why, beyond the savagery of blood-boiling travesty que…

My Mom is Racist

The doorbell rings. It’s late in the afternoon and my mother is washing the dishes while the rhythmic sound of our doorbell echoes. She tenses a bit. I ask her, “Mami, why don’t you see who it is?” I’…