Shahé Mankerian: When Jaws Premiered in Beirut

Father didn’t go to work and schools closed

temporarily because looters raided the port

the night before. We walked fast and Father

stopped once on the steep steps of Ashrafieh

to smoke a cigarette. The burning cargo

in the distance didn’t derail us. Father

purchased two tickets and held my hand

before walking into the lobby. The smell

of burning crates permeated

the half-empty theatre. The lights deemed,

credits flickered, and we plunged underwater.

The hum of ominous cello signaled

another explosion. Someone whispered,

“That’s the last of the silos.” We all knew

something threatening was getting closer and closer.

This poem appeared in Lightning Key Review