Fayum Portrait

by JAMES HOCH

             [Field Manual]

Sunday, there she goes again, toddling
             out the door, off the back deck, tumbling

in her church dress, a field of hand-
             painted green stems and yellow flowers,

so that stunned, staggering forward—
            Brother, no IED, no gag a god pulls,

today, no one dies. It’s just sky,
            dress, sky. There’s no manual for this—
 

[Purchase Issue 14 here.]
 

James Hoch‘s poems have appeared in The New Republic, The Washington Post, Slate, Chronicle Review, American Poetry Review, New England Review, the Kenyon Review, Tin House, and Ploughshares. His books are A Parade of Hands and Miscreants. Currently, he is a professor of creative writing at Ramapo College of New Jersey and guest faculty at Sarah Lawrence.

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Fayum Portrait

Related Posts

Two Poems by Heather Bourbeau

This forest is named for the first head of the National Forest Service, who warned of assuming natural resources were inexhaustible, who said without conservation we pay the price of misery, degradation, and failure, who asked if these resources were for the benefit of us all or for the use and profit of a few? He was also a leading eugenicist.

February 2026 Poetry Feature: Fatimah Asghar and Shane Moran

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i cursed the frog / that found its way into / my house. murderous, i laid / poison for the ants. i threw / my moon in the trash. / when he cheated, i wished / him a hall of mirrors. / doomed to endless versions / of him. i prayed they’d undo / each other. & they did. i took / from the earth without permission."

Mountain, Stone

LENA KHALAF TUFFAHA
Do not name your daughters Shaymaa, / courage will march them / into the bullet path of dictators. / Do not name them Sundus, / the garden of paradise calls out to its marigolds, / gathers its green leaves up in its embrace. / Do not name your children Malak or Raneem, / angels want the companionship