Slant Heaven

Translated from the Arabic

I clam up, trying to write you.

You must think I’ve ghosted you.

All the letters I haven’t written you

like so many clams jammed in beach mud.

Reaching underfoot to pick one up,

I pry at the shell till it breaks open.

Brackish water dribbles out.

I’ve broken a thousand clams like this.

But it’s okay, they don’t feel pain.

Notes:

This poem is part of the folio “Broken Lines: A Gathering of Exiled Poets,” curated by Laura Kraftowitz and Edward Salem. Read the rest of the folio in the July/August 2026 issue of Poetry.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2026)