If an Egyptian Cannot Speak English

by Noor Naga

I’d never seen two people so horrified with joy.

hair shaved close to the scalp like a sniper’s.

I would step into rooms like a drop of oil in a glass of milk, like an open drain.

I’ve never seen such long eyes or such primeval bones.

a dough-bodied woman who was infatuated by paper.

hopeful name

They striped the high ceiling of the bedroom with the gray soul of dawn in infinite gradations.

Her breath caught in her throat like a sleeve on a door handle, as if she was only

He’s surprised but then his smile begins to feed from my palm like a cat.

that haunts my dreams, puffed out of my jacket pocket like a spritz of perfume.

bedroom like a murder-verb looking for its object,