Reading Time: 1 Minutes
Aintab, Turkey: 1915
Crouched behind a wagon,
my great-grandmother, only 12,
can smell benzine, burning hair —
shouts of hungry men, lust in their curses.
Yeranouhi, which means wish,
smears charcoal on her pretty face
like a dutiful daughter, watches
as her mother hides her young brother,
rolling him gently into a small carpet.