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This poem is taken from PN Review 225, Volume 42 Number 1, September - October 2015.

Two Poems Marilyn Hacker

Nieces and Nephews

In July, when Tsahal was bombing Gaza
and we marched, and there were flags and brawls
Lamis waited for me on the corner, smiling
in a lime-green sleeveless dress, not her daily jeans.
There were three cop cars parked in front of my building
and Lamis shouted giddily in Arabic
‘She’s the terrorist, here!’ I pinched her,
shushed her, laughing ‘Half those cops are Arabs!’
We went to a café, drank wine. She told me
her niece had finally been freed from prison
in Damascus. She lit up her cell phone
to show me the 19-year-old girl’s photo.
The second of her older sister’s children.

Naima’s Ismaël on the Corniche, sunlit
in a rust corduroy jacket, white shirt open
...


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