Nathalie Handal

French / Palestinian / American
Nathalie Handal
French / Palestinian / American


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Les É?Ventails, Portraits Of Passion
The shadows of birds fading on a fighter's back
The undressing of words on an unstamped postcard
The wet swings in the distant park
White Trees
When the white trees are no longer in sight
they are telling us something,
like the body that undresses
water will reach
the rim of the glass but will not
allow itself to leave the glass
I don't know if I left the window open,
or the electric fireplace on,
not sure if my name is Natalya or Navarro,
Yesterday Hours
I traveled nowhere where I could not be found.
I knocked on every neighbors' door, stole every pillow,
wiped away the ants on my kitchen table, leaned against
The Phone Call
The phone line is on fire,
my cousin's spirit in flames
as she tells me
about Dar Al-Kalima
A cup of empty messages in a room of light,
light that blinds & blinded men lined up
the young are unable to die peacefully, I hear a man say.
The Hawk Quartet
You greet me only with your eyes.
That evening you write to me
on a starless night,
In The Blue Hour
the negrita cries, I hide
not to deceive the darkness
or myself…
He might return and if he appears blue I might
allow him on top and if he returns with the sun
I will let summer multiply on my body

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5/12/2021 9:56:03 AM #