Tafsut Imazighen

Tizi Ouzou, Algeria Summer, 1980

Orange sliced down the middle.

Tchina and aghroum—

they really do make a meal when you’re starving.

Mama stares at her dad in awe, 

remembers how he slaughtered the lamb adeptly, a quick mercy. 

His gift in return: 

hot oil in the eyes, swift fingers on guitar strings.

He tells the boys not to steal, 

keep your hands in your pockets, tongue in your mouth. 

Her brother’s lips are white / with thirst, 

he pulls them out / from the middle to scare the girls. 

He makes them the prettiest dollhouse they’ve ever seen,

stares out its windows. The sound travels down from the mountains, 

begging so thick, it settles over the city as a net.

People pull the hungry street signs down

so they won’t devour the entire language. 

Without direction, you might walk straight down the coastline into the sea. 

Isn’t it relentless, to live and just keep living?

Mama worries the boys’ll disappear, she’ll wake up without brothers. 

She seals her lips, crystalizes her hands in salt blocks.

A sliver of orange balances on gold-grain bread. 

Together, it tastes like the sun. 

Together, it tastes like the sun.

A sliver of orange balances on gold-grain bread. 

Mama’s lips are sealed, hands crystalized in salt blocks.

She worries the boys’ll disappear, she’ll wake up without brothers.

Isn’t it relentless, to live and just keep living?

Without direction, you might walk straight down the coastline into the sea. 

So they won’t devour the entire language, 

people pull the hungry street signs down.

The begging is so thick, it settles over the city as a net;

stare out of it and watch the sound travel down from the mountains.

Her brother makes the prettiest dollhouse they’ve ever seen,

pulls them out from its middle to scare the girls. 

His lips are white with thirst. 

Keep your hands in your pockets, tongue in your mouth,

Baba tells the boys not to steal. 

Hot oil in his eyes, fingers swift on guitar strings:

his return gift. 

Remember how he slaughtered the lamb? Adeptly, a quick mercy.

Mama stares at him in awe. 

You know what really makes a meal when you’re starving? 

Tchina and aghroum—

an orange sliced down its middle.