Issam Zineh
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there is a fine line between looking and not looking
the gaze in its violent shimmering—a knife in the grass—
Jenny Molberg, from “Epistle from the Funambulist Hospital for Invisibility”
there is a fine line between looking and not looking
even finer still the thing said and left unsaid
there’s an expression in Arabic that translates to either shoot him
or break his brain the closest equivalent to a bull in a china shop
with room for interpretation as there might be between, say, presence and embodiment
the original expression used to go god is in the details
avoidance can look something like intention from the outside
my therapist says liberation comes from writing down the details
in one context what is expected in another means a public death
how willing we must have been to take that chance
take for instance what will become of that bowl of fruit you leave out overnight
take for instance what came before you that you forgot you inherited
take for instance what came of an imagined wolf whistle
take for instance what became of that girl who lost a tooth in her dad’s knuckle
take for instance what might come from a mis-timed recollection
take for one final instance what might come from a split second of noticing
the gaze in its violent shimmering—a knife in the grass—
Issam Zineh is a Los Angeles-born, Palestinian-American poet and scientist. He is the author of the forthcoming chapbook The Moment of Greatest Alienation (Ethel Press, Spring 2021). His poems appear or are forthcoming in Clockhouse, Fjords Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry (Poets Resist), Nimrod, Poet Lore, Psaltery & Lyre, The Seattle Review and elsewhere. He also reviews for The Poetry Café. Find him on twitter @izineh.