My Sentimental Afternoon

By LEILA CHATTI 

Around me, the stubborn trees. Here
I was sad and not sad, I looked up
at a caravan of clouds. Will you ever
speak to me again, beyond
my nightly resurrections? My desire
displaces, is displaced. The sun
unrolls black shadows
which halve me. I stand
very still so as not to startle
the song in the branches.
It’s true: I am learning to believe
there are beautiful things
never meant for me.

 

Leila Chatti is a Tunisian American poet and author of Deluge—winner of the 2021 Levis Reading Prize and the 2021 Luschei Prize, and longlisted for the 2021 PEN Open Book Award—and four chapbooks. She lives in Cincinnati and teaches in Pacific University’s MFA program.

[Purchase Issue 27 here.]

My Sentimental Afternoon

Related Posts

The Shirt

DAVID RYAN
He'd forgotten this shirt for many years, just another drifting article of faith, as the smaller artifacts of the last couple of decades have been subsumed, lost beneath the greater accrual of a pain fused to the loneliness, the unbearable gathering of what Jonathan sees as Now in light of Then.

Green Fields and Clear Blue Sky

Dispatch from Moscow

AFTON MONTGOMERY
The forestry scientists said Moscow has some of the unhappiest trees in the world. I remember clearly my friend telling me this, though I don’t remember much about her explanation of why. It’s possible she said unhealthiest rather than unhappiest and my brain overwrote her telling with my own truth.