Mournings (About A)

Mournings (About A)


To See

The teller told me they were premonitions,


not my imagination.

A green velour couch.

A child with short chestnut hair


arms wide open

to the front door

to welcome you



in time,

the couch becomes grey,

the child breaks into static,

and the hinges rust shut.



Playing cards, rolling paper and condoms

lined the bottom shelf behind the counter of the


convenience store.

In that exact order:

Playing cards, rolling paper, condoms

Adjacent to one another.

Underneath packets of cigarettes.

The other best sellers and

late-night buys.

I came in for slims,

to help me drink unassumingly.


Hiding behind the smoke,

I watched my two front teeth

turn a darker shade of brown.


Shara3 Al Haramiyye

I met a ghost the other day

in your gaze

of who you thought i was.

It would tell a different story

in another light.

Just another specter of assumptions

infiltrating this street of

slaughtered becomings.

We are all dead here

Longing for a resurrection (that will never come).

Romy Lynn

Romy Lynn is a text worker (copywriter, translator, editor). She is currently completing an MA in Anthropology (American University of Beirut), with an emphasis on kinship. She is also a dancer and has organized and participated in various dance projects in Lebanon.

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