Birthday Girl

By Sheila J. Sadr

An emerging poet that has long engaged in the Los Angeles literary and education scenes. Deeply engaged with community planning, events, readings, and youth literary programs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Not a Cult
• Release date: Nov 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781945649950

Book preview

Birthday GirlsTitlePage

Copyright © Sheila J. Sadr

First edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles, reviews, or academic projects. For information, contact [e-mail].

ISBN: 978-1-945649-95-0

Edited by Safia Elhillo

Proofread by Rhiannon McGavin

Cover design by Faye Orlove and Cassidy Trier

Editorial design by Julianna Sy

Not a Cult

Los Angeles, CA

Imprimé au Canada

Space

To those who didn’t survive.

Contents

Bionic Woman

I

Soghatee

Confessional

Ode to My Heart

Kharejee

Home Key

History Lesson

Origin Story

Learning to Pray

And So My Mother was a Child Once

Epigraph from Anxiety on the Tarmac

He Calls Me Queen

Love Poem

Khejalat nemekeshe?

II

Ar-(Rahm)an

Family Tree

Date Night

the heart has four cavities

Abody

Things They Say—This is Not a Confessional.

A List Of Eleven…

The Man Holds the Door Open

Shame

History Lesson (Reprise)

Relic

In the Worst Places

Ideation

III

Mommon Speaks

Mama, You Gave Birth to a Soft Girl.

What is Sheila Sadr?

Mohr

to the topless photos I took for an ex who asked

I am Letting Him Go Today

On Conflation

I Watch My Ex’s Ex’s Story on Instagram

Joy

Pussy Takes Herself Out

Depression is My Daughter and Now I Brush Her Hair

Speak

Welcome to Womanhood

Monterey Pine

bionic woman

full moon      cloaked shadow

who are you without all these

other hands? what are

you made of when

you go untouched?

wet moth      fluttering pussy

all metallic silk, hot and electric

honey      you natural

mechanical thing

built of so many parts,     interlink

coconut oiled

nuts and bolts, a stew

a limited mess      No

warranty, just a pair of latex

gloves and speculum to test your

open wounds. hot breath

pitted apple      outside skin

take the seeds that grew you

and what do you have?

cyanide

are you still a living thing if

all your insides beg

for death?

Space

I

Soghatee

We congregate at the dining table.

The rice and stew, a welcome mat

against our tongues. Mommon      speaks us jamaat

and I utter,      a gathering. Our words

break bread      together. We make a meal

of aush reshteh and nammak, and they become

blood and sugar     in our mouths. Farsi is the first

souvenir we receive as children. Turns into glass we

now ferry     with our teeth. How long     can we make

this heirloom     last? Translation,     the mint collecting

at the bridge of our plates.     Leaving     us full,

leaving us     hungry.

Confessional

I find my seat in the church choir

of my sister’s laugh.

Her smile, holy

water on