Published in Spring 2024 Online Folio
the day my grandfather dies i am fast asleep
my mother wakes me up and her face is a wash of grief
i wonder what i can say for all the absent men in my life
i don’t really remember him,
just the wrinkle beneath his left eyebrow,
the ’ilma wrapped around his forehead
there are no shortages of sudanese men in america
men in their 1997 toyota camrys,
in the driver’s seat of the cab,
behind the counter, cashier
half gentle-men
how many immigrant men come
and lose their lives / how many men sink
More poems by Dalia Elhassan in MQR’s African Writing Online Folio:
This piece is from our Spring 2024 African Writing Online Folio, an online-exclusive extension of our special issue, “African Writing: A Partial Cartography of Provocations,” guest edited by Chris Abani. You can read more from our Spring 2024 issue, available for purchase in print and digital forms here.
Dalia Elhassan is a Sudanese-American poet and writer living in NYC. Her work has been featured in The Kenyon Review, The Oakland Arts Review, Rattle #59, and most recently in the New-Generation African Poets Series (Sita) with her chapbook, In Half Light (2019, Akashic Books and the African Poetry Book Fund). She is the recipient of the Hajja Razia Sharif Sheikh Prize for nonfiction and was shortlisted for the 2018 Brunel International African Poetry Prize. She can be found online @daliaelhassan.
