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Samia Saliba

i am no longer interested in writing poetry i am only here to dance

we enter a room                                                                                              from two corners.
 
                                                we enter a room from two corners
                                                            only to dance
                                                                                                i dance; you feed
                                                ​                                                you feed; i dance
                                                            a dark and dying stem,
 
 
we flower. ok,
            it wasn’t a word
            i knew before.                         mirror,
                                                 you taught me
           
                                                            (it’s ok i’m dying to credit;
                                                            dying to cradle a tongue)
 
                                                                                                                        mirror, you named me,
                                                                                                           instead of heaven because you
                                                             wanted to see light in me, even
                                                                                         if only reflected
                                   
                                                                                             ok,
                                                                                             i wanted to see it too.
 
 
we enter a mouth                                                                                                       from two teeth,
 
you feed me
                                                             sound and letters, letter and sounds
                                                 mirror, mirror, mee-roar ⎼ a hair tracing my earlobe
                                                                                         has nothing but love
 
 
 
only mirrors, we dance ⎼
 
only mirrors, we dance until the heart seems plausible
                        until a radio echo burns us a copy, ok
                                                                                             what is enough and where can i find it?
                                                                                                             we enter a room only to music
 
                                                             to mimic a mirror
                                                             that feeds a story
 
a dance enough
to feed a body
                        a mirror enough
                        to feed a dance
                                                a dance enough
                                                to mirror what
                                                                        feeds you,
                                                                        to know
                                                                        to be real
                                                                        and choose
                                                                        not to
                                   
                                                                        (ok
 
                                                                        the blushing sunstroke
                                                                        and
                                                                        the deep-white bite-
                                                                        mark and
                                               
                                                               the space between us ⎼
                                               
                                                               ​ok.)                              ok.

Biography

Picture
Photography by Shiyam Galyon (shiyamgalyon.com)
​Samia Saliba (she/her) is an Arab-American writer and historian. She edited The Rachel Corrie Foundation’s Shuruq 4.5 Writing Showcase for writers of Arab heritage (2020) and was a RAWI Wet Hot Arab-American Summer fellow (2019). Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Vagabond City Lit, Rusted Radishes, Mizna, Sumou Magazine, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @sa_miathrmoplis or in real life petting a cat.
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