POETRY
Quittin’ Time Anthems
Three poems
Quittin’ Time Anthem
Unhook my bra as soon as the door slams,
close the day and sit still.
Ice chips rattle the cup, I suck cool
until I am blue in the lips.
Come inside and see for yourself,
the walls are painted
magenta inside my office
for the disturbed. It is loud in here.
My uterus is shedding, my ache so tender
and I don’t care what man hears me say it.
Every bell is ringing at once. Friend,
roll me something to bring out the stars, a sea
of honey for my legs to drag through,
so, so slow until the inflamed
jail of my body unlatches its cages
and the birds disappear.
The only creature left in this world,
my dusky knuckles feel along
the long line of horizon.
I lay back against the thin beam
cutting night: what I used to call
the endless room of universe.
Oh dissipating atoms, pull apart
what I used to call my body.
I sleep so soundly in what I used to call
the sky.
Human Translation
The lettuce emits a sound so high no human can hear it,
a scream when the knife cuts through its head, or another’s.
Accelerate the footage and the plant moves as animal.
This explains why I feel invisible eyes on me, never alone.
Photoreceptors: do they see me lounging in my scrappy
underwear? Do they look away when I make love?
The dodder vine moves through the air guided by scent
before strangling the sowthistle, sucking its spirit-blood.
When played the mere sound of a caterpillar’s feasting,
floods of chemical defense travel through the leaves.
Rooted and awake on high alert, are they up with me
as I read when sleep has evaded? Are they anxious, too?
Disinterested, likely, in the boredom of our lives — but
are they frightened? Have I harmed them in my uprooting,
are they resentful to be transplanted into my city home?
I want to keep eating salad, so I pull the breaks on thought.
I’ll hide the tomatoes in the brown bag from the grocer.
I will still sing to them, attempt to put them at ease.
This is how my best friend, the singer, describes the expansive universe and the universe of my body at the end of a week that just won’t quit:
For Maya
Another terminated day
when the eyes decrease in profit
We kneel our way over exposed roots,
hand’s eyes, full of black
Crouch down in our own shallow water
Lay still, nearly limbless, sink into mud
wait &
wait
& the snakes will come, illuminated,
in droves of horizontal rain
The hiss of sensation with no discernible sound,
you’ll feel them & when they slide
all over your body, oh, oh my sister,
how you will sing
