[poetry] 

JEWS IN GRAVE DANGER IN ALL MOSLEM LANDS; Nine Hundred Thousand in
Africa and Asia Face Wrath of Their Foes
New York Times headline, May 16, 1948

I’ll tell you this: my house burned easy, quick
as locusts gun through fields. The desert hummed
a warning. No, I did not stay. I stick
to nothing, no Jews do. Those books un-thumbed—

he said, Let’s go, and so, we went. With him
I left myself to burn—the desert hissed
around us. Yes, I ran through sandstorms, thinned
to bone in godless night, my husband’s fist.

I’ll tell you this: I shed no tears. His corpse—
starved silent, he was buried in the camp
in Aden. Like a man, I did not mourn.
The airplane trembled, grieved. And this new land?

The stench of piss, a canvas tent. Alone
I swat the flies. Do not name here my home.

Ilan Magnani is a senior at Pittsburgh Creative and Performing Arts School 6-12, where they major in Literary Arts and contribute to the school newspaper. As a transgender descendant of Holocaust survivors, Ilan’s writing reckons with violence and marginalization. Their work has been recognized in various contests run by Princeton University, Gannon University, the Carnegie Library, University of Pittsburgh, and others.