Former Mizna guest editor Tarik Dobbs imagines an uncle’s history in “My Uncle Who Died of AIDS Probably”. The poem, surrounded by absence and redaction, contemplates an interpretation of the past while holding space for what cannot be known.
Originally published in Mizna 21.1: Queer + Trans Voices, reprinted on Mizna Online as part of the Disability Folio.
—Kate Bestall, editorial intern
Your
legsobliterated
& collapsing country
—Tarik Dobbs
Locked away in Lubnan : late 1970s probably
In the olive grove back home
your
Your
Name
Perhaps you’re being eaten by :
malaise/
fatigue
Your legs obliterated
& collapsing country
Maybe you climb through the olive grove
You beg my other uncle not to leave
akhe I’m
take me to France—
you probably said
Take
Pouring your blood into leaves on a tree
Zeitun with red like
Remember
Your mouth falls beneath the bolt
Your sores go quiet :
wrapped times in white sheets
your brother asks
You really liked it didn’t you?

Tarik Dobbs (هو/هم/he/they) runs poetry.onl and is assistant professor of English in creative writing (poetry) at Southwest Minnesota State University. Dobbs is the author of Nazar Boy, winner of the 2026 GLCA New Writers Award in Poetry, and Dearbornistan (forthcoming), both from Haymarket Books. He lives in Saint Paul, Minnesota.