Iman Albader

Music to My Ears

The voices make the door vibrate against its frame. Their tone crescendos and ends in a forte that creates cracks in the wall. My doll falls over in the corner. There is a sound like hurting. Somebody cries and somebody else comforts. My dog whines a multi-toned song of his own in reply. The voices soften. Experience says its safe to leave now.

But the record is on repeat and tomorrow will begin the song again.

Garden of Eden

This is just a

If I’m
It’s easy
to win.

Play your cards right,
and the deck is yours.


Claws scrape
my ribcage,

me up,

the flesh.

When all is said
and done,

all that’s

are pieces of skin
you haven’t touched.


I was a delicate

A pretty

My body
was not made
for me.


Now I am dirt.
Overly cultivated.

A muddy

Iman Albader is a first-year student in the College of Arts and Sciences at Boston University. She has spent half her life living in Kuwait and half her life living in Massachusetts. Her work has never been published before.