When I love, it happens almost all at once.
It is inconsiderate, unrefined—
a child screeching in a supermarket.
It is a thunder clap.
It is a small village blackout.
It is Aphrodite rising from the sea foam, fully formed.
— Salma Deera, “The Graceless Matter of Loving,” Letters From Medea. (October 17, 2015)