Life as Apology

Leila Farjami

I apologize to the sunny day in May—my birthday
when Father took us on a boat ride to drown me.

I apologize to the seashore
where my nine-year-old body was found.
I apologize to Mother 
who refused to hold my naked, shivering body
poured me black tea. Said,
O, well, take it with nabaat¹. It’s good for you.

I apologize to the sun and the moon 
for witnessing it all,
to the stars for keeping it a secret.

I apologize to the underwater breathing
the salt crusting my lungs 
the billows swaying me to dryland like a dishrag
the sand blanketing me in its chilled silver.

Before Father died, he said, 
Had you been a fish, you would have never drowned.
Brothers and Sisters nodded. All nodded. 
I looked down at my finned toes, scaled limbs, hooked belly.
I wanted to say, But I am a fish. I am a fish!
Instead, I said, I apologize. I apologize. 
Brothers and Sisters nodded. All nodded.

They Gathered. Took me on a boat ride.
I would not drown. Could no longer.

Mother said, 
O, well, take it with nabaat. 

¹ traditional Iranian candy



Leila Farjami is an Iranian-American poet, translator, and psychotherapist. Winner of The Cincinnati Review’s 2024 Robert and Adele Schiff Awards in poetry, nominated for a Pushcart Prize and the Best of the Net, her poems appear in Diode, El Portal, Euphony, Grey Sparrow, Midwest Quarterly, Nimrod, Pennsylvania English, Silk Road Review, Subnivean, and more. Her work is forthcoming in Ploughshares, Cincinnati Review, West Trade Review, Mulberry Literary, and an anthology by Guernica Editions. She serves as a reader for The Harbor Review journal.