Pizza with Light Bulb

Mama made the best Lebanese pizza: soft, thick,
with olives, mushrooms, ash’awan cheese,
and ketchup instead of pizza sauce.

But that night there was something
different about it. We knew
one should never complain
about home-made food,
so we crunched and swallowed,
washed it down with Pepsi,
until she heard the glass shards
under our teeth. She opened the oven,
found out the light in there had
burst. The doctor on the phone
said the only side effect
would be our asses lighting up
at night. It was a practical thing, after all,
to turn into lightning bugs
with the electricity gone
from midnight until 6 AM.

 

Zeina Hashem Beck is a Lebanese poet whose first collection, To Live in Autumn (The Backwaters Press, 2014), has won the 2013 Backwaters Prize. It was also a runner up for the Julie Suk Award, a category finalist for the 2015 Eric Hoffer Awards, and has been included on Split This Rock’s list of recommended poetry books for 2014. She’s been nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize, and her poems have been published in various literary magazines, among which are Ploughshares, Poetry Northwest, Nimrod, The Common, MiznaRattle, 32 PoemsMslexia, and Magma. She lives with her husband and two daughters in Dubai, where she regularly performs her poetry and runs the poetry and open collective PUNCH.

 

 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Pizza with Light Bulb

Related Posts

February 2026 Poetry Feature: Fatimah Asghar and Shane Moran

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i cursed the frog / that found its way into / my house. murderous, i laid / poison for the ants. i threw / my moon in the trash. / when he cheated, i wished / him a hall of mirrors. / doomed to endless versions / of him. i prayed they’d undo / each other. & they did. i took / from the earth without permission."

Mountain, Stone

LENA KHALAF TUFFAHA
Do not name your daughters Shaymaa, / courage will march them / into the bullet path of dictators. / Do not name them Sundus, / the garden of paradise calls out to its marigolds, / gathers its green leaves up in its embrace. / Do not name your children Malak or Raneem, / angels want the companionship

Book cover of suddenly we

Poems from suddenly we by Evie Shockley

EVIE SHOCKLEY
one vote begets another / if you make a habit of it. / my mother started taking me / to the polls with her when i / was seven :: small, thrilled / to step in the booth, pull / the drab curtain hush-shut / behind us, & flip the levers / beside each name she pointed / to, the Xs clicking into view. / there, she called the shots / make some noise.