Clare Zicari 12/11/24 Clare Zicari 12/11/24

un-silent.

You know what she’s saying.

Focus on her smile. On the cheetah print hijab. On the purple dress. On the leather jacket.

Clare Zicari 11/23/24 Clare Zicari 11/23/24

hamoud.

Hamoud carries his love out before him like a prize. Like a promise. Like proof. He carries it down a dirt road towards the camera, an armful, a shoulderful, a bodyful.

Clare Zicari 11/21/24 Clare Zicari 11/21/24

for the love of war.

Help him, please, will you help him? For War has stolen his fire in order to light her Calls, and the fire will be used for horrible things. For bloody things. For Death.

Clare Zicari 11/14/24 Clare Zicari 11/14/24

inertia.

Clare Zicari 11/12/24 Clare Zicari 11/12/24

hummus.

Clare Zicari 11/10/24 Clare Zicari 11/10/24

nutrients.

I picture a mouse in windfall in October.

I imagine it cold, on the ground. I imagine it damp. The mouse doesn’t mind, or I imagine it doesn’t. This is just what its home is. This is just the world.

Clare Zicari 10/7/24 Clare Zicari 10/7/24

sand.

A year feels like no time at all to me. It’s a blink. A blip. It’s hardly enough time to change over my clothes from the summer – and it hardly gets cold enough nowadays for the winter coats anyway. A year is small to my mind, and it is terrifying in its accumulation. Once you have one, there is another, then three, then four…