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i was born at twilight
always looking for the hour
when the moon and the sun
share the sky

looking for a home
they can share
against this wedge of darkness

i carry in my side
eve's rib
the forgotten mother
of a drunk tongue
or an angry name

buzzing like a mouthful of moths
or maybe just one
pressed to my wrist

a reminder of mistakes
of fathers already gone
and mothers hiding in their own minds

my nimble fingers
no match for my palms
or the too soft soles
of my feet

a lie written in sunsets
a misstep only at dusk
when the sky bleeds
and the moon sighs
to the metronome
of the long nights

no sense in breaking lines
to fit into my teeth
like a body getting softer
when it should know better

in the dreams of traitors
i watch at night
too sharp to keep
when the sun is
high in the sky

and my fevered brain
and the sweat falling
between my breasts

just a story
without a protagonist
a backdrop for an illusion
too elaborate to ground

an unbroken list
of blurry words
and jagged lines



Rabha Ashry is Egyptian, from Abu Dhabi, and based in Chicago. A New York University Abu Dhabi graduate, she is currently completing an MFA in Writing at School of the Arts Institute of Chicago. She spends a lot of time scribbling short poems in her notebook, smoking menthols, and looking lost. Hearing her name pronounced right makes her happy in a way she can't quite describe, and she speaks to her roommate's cats in Arabic because she knows they speak Arabic too.
Current Issue
11 Nov 2024

Their hair permed, nails scarlet, knees slim, lashes darkly tinted.
green spores carried on green light, sleeping gentle over steel bones
The rest of the issue is on its way. We think.
In the 4th episode of SH@25, Editor Kat Kourbeti sits down with tabletop game designer and SFF critic Kyle Tam, whose young career has taken off in the last few years. Read on for an insightful interview about narrative storytelling from non-Western perspectives, the importance of schlock and trash in the development of taste, and the windows into creativity we find in moments of hardship.
After the disaster—after the litigation, the endless testimony, the needling comments of the defendant’s counsel—there is at last a settlement, with no party admitting error, and the state recognizing no victim, least of all yourself. Although the money cannot mend any of the overturned things left behind, it can pay for college, so that’s where you go next.
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Podcast read by: Devin Martin
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Issue 30 Sep 2024
Issue 23 Sep 2024
By: LeeAnn Perry
Art by: nino
Issue 16 Sep 2024
Issue 9 Sep 2024
Issue 2 Sep 2024
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