Refugee Mouth
by Sanita Fejzić
Grounded in the haunting aftermath of the Siege of Sarajevo and the ethnic cleansing of Bosniak people during the 1992-1995 Balkan War, Refugee Mouth interweaves war-devastated landscapes and queer joy. As a diasporic writer and lesbian, Sanita Fejzić channels her refugee-turned immigrant experience into powerfully stark imagery and multiple voices, inviting the world itself—the Mediterranean, black bears, the moon, the city of Sarajevo—into ecstatic dialogue. Her poems traverse war and violence, crafting a vision of hope and healing through queer and eco-feminist worldbuilding. Refugee Mouth is a raw and unflinching debut: a testament to resilience and the insistence on life amidst unthinkable devastation.
This book is scheduled for release in May 2025. It is now available for Pre-Order, and will be shipped as soon as we receive stock.
$22.95 CAD
Additional information
| Weight | .208 kg |
|---|---|
| Dimensions | 9 × 6 × 0.375 in |
| Page Count | 88 |
| Binding | Soft Cover with flaps |
| Year Published | 2025 |
Sanita Fejzić
Sanita Fejzić’s poetry and fiction have been published in The Antigonish Review, Prairie Fire, Room Magazine, ellipse, and Bywords, and shortlisted for the CBC Poetry Prize and the Malahat Review Long Poem Prize. Sanita lives with her wife and children on the traditional unceded territory of the Algonquin Anishinaabeg people (Ottawa).
What a glory of a book! Sanita Fejzić comes to poetry with the primeval wisdom and spiritual ache of a refugee torn from her country as a child. Hers is the kind of voice—strong, fierce, com passionate—I can’t get enough of. “Lilies keep blooming / because in a poem about murder / they gather and protect the light.” Lines like these, stunning and unexpected, open our minds and hearts to a major new writer whose words will make a difference in the world.
~ Lorna Crozier
Dinaric Alps before Sunset
Border crossing into Bosnia
sudden death of the engine—
fumes snake upward funeral grey.
I touch my Canadian passport
though the jacket (Bosnian un-
renewed, left behind.)
This land that usurped flesh, was flesh
land a somber, silent witness.
How many have died here of hunger
of fear, fear of men and landmines
I do not know—do not want to know.
Outside all four directions open
to blushing blues, darkening greens
the sun slices the day in two
hanging
receding
over rocky peaks grim impending.