Poetry: Regimen by Elizabeth O’Connell-Thompson

I cut my finger making dinner,
and the jagged edge of skin I’d left to heal and harden
wound new red paths across my cheek
as I dreamed of the rising sun, a hornet’s nest.

                  I am becoming a weapon unto myself.

Hot water is forgiving to tougher skins,
like candlelight when the dark won’t do.
In the beginning

          I would soak before you came to me.

You’d say,
“How warm you are. How sweet to touch.”
          And I let you.

Sara Rahbar is a contemporary mixed media artist. Ranging from photography to sculpture to installation, her work stems from personal experience while exploring ideological symbols. Born in Tehran, she lives and works in New York.