Tanya Tuzeo






ground zero

my mother’s lungs collapsed
twenty years after the World Trade Center did—

Guiliani told everyone to go back to work
and so she did.

dust covered her desk, throat itchy
the ride home, for years

her singing voice was lower,
though her last Newport was when my grandfather died.

something of the crumbling empire entered her,
shut away in bedroom, shouts at the television—

my brother went to war
learned to daisy chain,

came out a demolition expert
just as fibrotic tissue tightly knit

our mother’s lungs in a rapid
succession of silent explosions.

 

 


 

 


at war’s end

he forgets it’s my son’s birthday, only calls
when our mother tells him to

there was a moose near
, he says,
and couldn’t call.

for weeks, he’s watched it strip maple
bathing so deep antlers became driftwood

sifted through cottongrass—together
further into the mountain.

did you see the people falling from planes?
i want to ask but don’t.

the people he tracked long ago
through what’s left of wild olive trees

routed onto sagging rooftops
busted concrete sprouting rebar

city of Kandahar, pomegranates
once wove streets explosive ruby—

where he gave its children lollipops
for their submission.

i want to talk about these things,
 
but he returns to the forest

broken branches, rubbed bark, patterns in the loam—
slowly finding his way to its maker. 

 

 

 

 

 

 
witnessing a genocide on social media

my youngest clenches pacifiers,
clustered together, a bouquet
offered in sleep.
neatly packed between fingers,
latex lilies spray outwards.

with his hands full
 
i hold onto his toes instead,
marvel at the nubs of my creation—
ectodermal cells formed
to respond to this universe.

i scroll through another sleepless night—
a father in Gaza
also held onto his baby’s toes.
crushed together
he never let go. 

rhizomes pushing through sandstone
blackened by sudden frost,
tiny globes cradled
a parent’s last touch—




Tanya Tuzeo is a librarian at the College at Old Westbury, a mother of two, and the author of two poetry collections: 
We Live in Paradise and Wound Environment. Her work, featured in various literary publications, explores themes of intergenerational trauma, illness, and societal conflict. A finalist in the 2022 Atlanta Review International Poetry Contest and longlisted in Frontier Poetry’s Nature & Place prize, her poetry reflects resilience, love, and the complexities of family bonds in a deteriorating world.


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