Nadia Farjami


mama flosses a photograph out of
her scrapbook’s yellowed

teeth; she pulls
me into the iranian war,

shows me the souls raked:
red autumn leaves,

the uniforms unfurled,
hushed into lint—


—i hold mama’s
photograph, my fingers are sticky

with mourning

but i realize that my tongue has never tasted
the colors of a bullet; my

feet have never sizzled
on bloodied turf; i

have never lived like mama,
have never dangled from an unwinding web


Nadia Farjami is a poet from Southern California. Her work has been recognized by The New York Times, Cathexis Northwest Press, High Shelf Press, The Esthetic Apostle, The National Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, Prometheus Dreaming, Polyphony LIT, Youth Poet Laureate, Body Without Organs Literary Journal, Marmalade Magazine, Cagibi Literary Journal, The Athena Review, and more.