Dear Editor,


Dear editor,
my submissions are under your feet
as you extend them on your messy desk
read them behind greasy glass screen

Dear editor,
while you judge who gets the firing squad
I lay sleepless, waiting for the bullets
to reach my mind and heart  

Dear editor,
I know approval isn’t a piece of
meat you give to a street cat, or mediocre isn’t
acceptable into your exclusive gangs

Dear editor,
rejection is fine. Don’t you know
that my arabness is also a rejection letter
handed to me every day with my coffee?

Dear editor,
rejection is ok. Don’t you know
that being a poet is also a rejection letter
sent to you with rejected job applications?

Dear editor,
don’t you know that I reject my rejection
I still submit, heal from my bullet wounds
there’s a bit of me wants your nod, but won’t
give a shit if you don’t approve.




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