Electric Pomegranate

By Shane Hanlon

“Visible and mobile, my body is a thing among things; it’s caught in the fabric of the world. But, because it moves itself and sees, it also holds things in a circle around itself.” – Merleau-Ponty


a clothesline

which was not meant to be a clothesline

things in general doing what they were not meant for


(it’s just an electrical wire between two olive trees)


Gassan’s mother is a fold in the cloth of consciousness

from her fossil white house every screeching tire is a tragedy, every neighbor’s

daughter is a whore

she whispered adan in the right ear when her son was born:

peace be upon him


she is a fold in the cloth of consciousness

a piece of cloth crumpled to make a little pocket

it stays for a little while

uneven and soft

before being smoothed away


in her responsive kitchen she is kneading dough

on the table behind

her is a split pomegranate her trembling body dips into the smooth wooden slab

but if you imagine her body as still

and the landscape of the room as what weaves

it would seem like the pomegranate was bobbing next to her covered head


a call to prayer wrings out from the central mosque

all of sudden half an ancient city is touching their head to fiber mats

like dough being pushed into a more palpable thing

as their spirit fruits lift off the table beside them

and start bobbing next to each of their covered heads


Shane Hanlon is originally from Long Island, New York. He works with Doctors Without Borders in Lebanon to support Syrian refugees.