Hana Saad
Winter 2026 | Poetry
dog bite
The minutes pass. Clothes set in a stack on my bed. Silence when I deserved better. Crossed my heart. Hoped to die. Spin the bottle. Chess. Matches. I met you in a bar. I still wasn’t myself. I almost miss the days I didn’t care. The voice inside me that was quiet. How raw hope clung to the inside of my hand, how I chased it across the tennis court, how the sour candy my sister gave me burned the inside of my mouth, painted it blue. How blue I’ve been, how cold I’ve been without me. I wish I could love without it turning my insides out. I wish I could hang on when I feel anxiety rising around me, a scribbled refrain on paper. I wish I could show up for myself like I show up on the page. I wish I had more to tell you than this. The sunset falls into night. Orange bleeds into blue. I like the neighborhood when it’s quiet, when I move my body up into the hill, when I risk the dog bite to watch the swans sail across the pond, when I am so in the moment I forget everyone else exists. I take my toothbrush and run it across my gums.
Hana Saad is a Lebanese-American writer, filmmaker, and creative based in Phoenix, AZ by way of Tulsa, OK. She is an MFA candidate in poetry at Arizona State University. Her poetry is featured in Mizna and has been supported by the Arab American National Museum and Tin House. She urges you to support the liberation of Palestine in whatever way you can. Connect with her on Instagram at @hanaxsaad or say hello at hana-saad.com .
Please note: The poem includes a reference to the song “asturias” by Oklou. Specifically, the line “How cold I’ve been without me.” It is not a direct quotation of the lyrics, but I wanted to share that with you all in case it is relevant.