Soz Zangana
abductor pollicis longus
i slice an orange every morning
out of season or not
sometimes with coarse sugar that sticks to my upper lip
sometimes squeezing with all the strength my thinning wrists afford me
ignoring the hollowing valley that connects a thumb to its radius
Soz Zangana is a first generation refugee child; a result of global policy mistakes & its attempt at redemption. She emigrated to the United States under amnesty, as a post-Gulf War peace offering. She has found it difficult to reconcile the soils her feet have touched with their burdens & joys. Poetry is the vessel she employs in the filtering & dissemination of all the worlds’ crossings. You can find her between the ephemeral & holy – a pediatric graduate student, photographer & poet.
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The Mantle 