SUMMERTIME

NOOR HINDI

I’ve carried a “Keep Calm, Carry On” bookmark in my pocket for the last 22 days.
Everyone wants to shake my hand.
Hello, my name is light.
Look at how quickly I can love, unlove, pretend to love.
The sound of conversation.
I once killed.
A lot of bees with a plastic bat.
They invaded my friend’s backyard.
Tiny sunlights quivering in the air.
They were relentless and it seemed we could fight for an unending number of days.
I was nine and the bees were dying and we called my massacre bravery.
Have you ever gazed at the center of a sunflower.
It’s so beautiful it should eat us.
Alive.
Yesterday, I dreamt I was fixing an elevator.
It only went up.
Forever and ever, but I grew tired of its constant optimism.
The persistence of everything.
Sometimes it kills me.

NOOR HINDI (she/her/hers) is a Palestinian-American poet and reporter. Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in The Rumpus, Winter Tangerine, and Cosmonauts Avenue. Her essays have appeared or are forthcoming in American Poetry Review, Literary Hub, and Adroit Journal. Hindi is the Senior Reporter for The Devil Strip Magazine. Visit her website at noorhindi.com.

TINY SPILLS
  • Tabs open on your screen right now:
    Disney+ (watching That’s So Raven . . . always)

  • Your sign:
    Gemini ?

  • Best book nobody talks about:
    Crawlspace by Nikki Wallschlaeger