A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. IV.

by Marianne Peel


And on that morning
Zhino asked about the mascara dripping down my cheeks.
Wondered why my eyes were swollen red.
I told her of the I’m sorry’s of the morning,
how I had no shoes
that fit the feet I held in the palms of my hands.

back to Fan Voting for the 2021 !Short Story Contest
home/ Bonafides
What’s New

Facebooktwitterlinkedinrssby feather
Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedintumblrmailby feather

Leave a Reply

Welcome to
Defenestrationism reality.

Read full projects from our
retro navigation panel, left,
or start with What’s New.