Old man relative say

By Aaron El Sabrout

he plans to drain the swamp

he’s never seen a swamp

he didn’t hate

vines dripping from the branches

to drink, mangrove marmoratus

shimmer transparent,

sentient ripples below the

surface of the water,

roots like fingers clawed into

the sand, holding it in place.


Old man relative he

grew up on plastic tray nuclear

dinner, he shaved baby carrot,

he white flake mashed potato

brown green peas never seen

bisilla spiraling

from soil,

wrapping hairs extending

to anchor pea leaves, profusion

of flowers, white-tongued

& peach & violet, scores

of butterflies ain’t come to visit

& no fattening amethyst

or peridot pod splits for

this dinner.


Old man relative see

“environmental catastrophe,”

think I’m not gonna

live that long anyway.

Old man drive noxious dinosaur

old man don’t wear mask at grocery store.

He wanders

perforated metal aisles

chilly, confused by carob

& quinoa.  Old man

sees breasts then eyes.


Young woman

wrinkles nose & sneers, selects

gluten-free lab-grown sausage, neither

legume, nor fungus, nor beef. Lululemon

yoga leggings same un-fiber as

old man Walmart pants, pterodactyl

twisted in the threads.


Old man panics at

checkout clerk

short hair

short stature

short sleeves

baring silvery hair forearm

name tag: Seagull. Old

man over clocked, can’t clock

checkout boy or checkout girl,

cigar smoke turns strip lights to


old man flashback

sweat reek disco

humid air & fish smell.

Thick wristed throat bob

girl pours liquor & spills

long legs from lank

fish-scale shimmer dress.

Young man bombed palm

thatch village very next day

chicken squawks & human screams

bent her over backroom

table last night but

only the burnt body

spilled her tea.


Old man hyperventilate

fluorescent light too bright

napalm smell burns his

throat, helicopter blades

pound air from his lungs.

Old man collapses at grocery

store, wakes

on the ground.  Silver haired

checkout sylph holds his hand,

leather-wrinkled skin &

thick knuckles,

grip simultaneously firm & weak

like pea tendrils

clinging

to tree trunk. Can’t wait

any longer, old man

begins to cry.

Checkout clerk watches EMTs

load old man into ambulance.

Sky burns acrid with smoke,

black clouds condensing behind

silhouetted mountains, vermillion

summer glow suffuses Seagull.

They pull their mask aside,

reach into their pocket, grasp

metal pen pipe, red

digital eye

on the barrel glows & they

press it to their lips

& pull.


Aaron El Sabrout (he/him) is a transgender Egyptian writer, artist, and activist currently living on unceded Stz’uminus territory (‘B.C, Canada’). At the beginning of the pandemic, he was living in Ooga Po’oge, on Tewa territory. He is a 2020 Obsidian Foundation fellow. His work has been published in Mud Season Review, Split Lip Magazine, and the Texas Poetry Review, among others. His work has also been featured in The BreakBeat Poets Vol. 3: Halal if You Hear Me, and We Want It All: A Radical Anthology of Trans Poetics.

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