Sara Saab was born in Beirut, Lebanon, and now lives in North London. Sara’s poetry will appear in Wasafiri, and in 2018 she was a finalist for the Omnidawn Poetry Chapbook Prize.





Sara Saab

A House of Reticence

Look, not one of us consented at the very beginning. This is known. To pick it up by the noose and accidentally reel a whole life along? Pour in the relaxants, deodorants, anti-emetics, only to glimpse not death at our elbow unfurling a bathrobe, but leery life. Brazen upskirter. Bodies, I hear, are heavy when the puff of animus goes out. We're only built to know how to execute one day then another. Look, the big questions are a trick of form; multiple choice where you can circle many or none Come here, climb the chainlink. There's a glow over the city that we put there.


One of the cultural inheritances of millennials like myself is the growing certainty that we’re the generation who gets to see the world pass from health to terminal illness, and that there’s very little we can do about it. I feel grossly violated by the rules of life in this last asthmatic gasp of the world. This poem aims to capture this familiar-to-my-generation feeling of existential nausea.



Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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