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By Nur Turkmani
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Audio Poem of the Day — Recovering Talkalakh. Machine-transcribed; use the interactive transcript above to jump the player to any line.
0:00Hi, this is Nool Turkmani and I'm reading my poem, Recovering Tel-Kelach from Lisbon, Portugal. Recovering Tel-Kelach. I remember that Jasmine bush, but I've forgotten the yellow couch. I can bear our small faces in the videos. My precious cousins pixelated those human Syrian summers, the rustling fan, malberry cone melting. When did my mother stop writing? What happened to the pear tree in our small faces? Maybe I regret recovering the tapes? This is my fourth cup of coffee. I am so alive at no's. My cousins have traveled wide and far. Every recording is a fatal attempt to save time. I swear I smell the stationary shop next door. Glitter and felt pens. My grandfather is dead. And what is childhood anyways?
1:00The stranger who won't leave.
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