A Gift from Zhino, the Kurdish Translator at Kara Tepe Refugee Camp: pt. IV.
by Marianne Peel
IV.
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
by
Our sphere