ELEGY FOR BAQAR THE GOAT Threa Almontaser North Carolina State University My uncle slits the throat of a goat one evening. He whispers soft blessings in lyrical Arabic. I tightly shut my eyes, invite camel-long lashes to veil death. I named it weeks ago. Dotingly fed it celery and grape leaves, ignorant that I was fattening up our dinner, but the sand stained beneath my feet looks like someone spilled a barrel of forbidden wine. I sleep hungry. I think I love this poor, blistered country. I was only nine when we first met, soft hands full of useless American dollars. But that single summer melted and fused into the flesh of my memories. I miss it with my entire being. What new progress comes next for this old, war-torn home of mine? I’ll fall like a headless, bloody animal if I let the thought of nothing changing loiter in my mind for too long.
ALMONTASER
OAR
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