All in by Atia Sattar

by Atia Sattar



a fish slipping
brushing gentle within
bathing anew in everything
I ate: masala dosa, nasi goreng
and thai food spicy.

dad couldn’t eat spicy at the end
couldn’t eat at all. I taped
the tube near his nose, trimmed
the tape with tiny scissors, kept
it from rubbing against his mouth
untrespassed by food, articulated
only in pain or anger or impatience
but mostly staying shut.

we never spoke
of our shared germinations
the bodies growing inside our bodies
eating and eating and eating
until each of us felt sick.

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Atia Sattar is a Pakistani-born poet whose writing explores the embodied intersections of motherhood, grief, gender and race. Her poetry has appeared in West Trade Review, MQR: Mixtape; Rogue Agent (Pushcart Nomination) and Cathexis Northwest Press. Her prose can be found in various publications including Lion’s Roar, Tricycle, Academe, and the Cambridge Quarterly for Health Care Ethics. She is Associate Teaching Professor of Gender and Sexuality Studies at the University of Southern California.