you know that song
when someone is searching/hurting
so they wail like a train
going over a mess of broken tracks
and you want to understand them
so you watch their lips closely
try to make their words fit around
your ears
but it’s like they’re singing to you
through a glass window
like your standing inside the train
with head phones on
trying to eavesdrop
on a sudden conversation
that’s what it was like
the last time I saw her
the day I was born
a belly the size of a donut
sucking a tube
instead of a tit
I tried to feel my way
into the world
not understanding the curves
of a hospital bed
were meant to ease me
of the arms of my mother
not understanding a kiss
was not made of plastic sheets
but out of clouds and moss
not knowing
this was the beginning of
my song
my rhythm
my legacy
I wailed
and she couldn’t
hear me
see sometimes I feel like
this whole city is under water
singing
belly water
gutter water
bay water
red water
water that never sleeps
that can’t quite
catch it’s self
so it’s leaks into
puddles
and lakes
and rivers
and we open our mouths
and it pours out
smelling like comfort
and gin
and dark
and pockets
and some ones secrets
breaking like a dam
everything moves
like jelly fish dances
submerged silhouettes
swaying down east 14th
I curl into
the fetal position
most nights
holding my knees
pressing my breasts flat
smelling my yearning
like a wet dog
a dumb bitch
chasing her tail
this is how
I am
hidden
small
a throbbing circle
of flesh
in the deep
closed tight
inside a hand
like a pearl
I used to be the kind of child
who liked to lick the sweat
of her fingers after basking
in the sun too long
they called me lizard
on days hotter than
frying grease
I would find the light
lay my body out
like a sacrifice
see there was something
satisfying bout that salt
pouring from my skin
that water breaking on my shoulders
turning into small streams running my back
something wonderful about the way
it made me hungry
not just the chlorine of public pools
I wanted the sharpness of sea urchins and coral
not just the hum of a plane from the cabin during take off
I wanted to be in the cockpit
aimed at a sky of blooming colors
not just a bed full of blankets and princess canopies
but a maze of naked arms and legs to get tangled in
I wanted it all
to sweat it out
savor it
they called me lizard
and I yearned
and I sang
and the rivers ran down my back
and I was not alone
you know that moment
right before the conductor
walks on stage
when the symphony has just
finished tuning
and the players sit like dolls
in the dimness
instruments propped up
on their knees
alert and expect
that’s what it was like
the day I remembered
she had a name
that someone somewhere
was yelling
“Come here, ----, I need you.”
and she was turning
arms open like trees
laughing with recognition
my name, Mariama, is a thorn
people prink their tongues on
and I am used the
bloody and broken variations
Mary, Miriam, Miranda,
Mario, and once even Mooyama
but no matter how many times
it is said wrong
it is never as choking
as knowing that somewhere
someone is calling her name
and she is turning to smile at them
while I sit
expectant like a doll
roots in my feet
waiting to be picked up
cradled and planted
on her lips
oh to grow my name
from her lips
to water the seed
of my existence with
her voice
I used to be
the kind of child
who would collect words
from the dictionary
coins from foreign countries
bamboo shoots from the park
stamps, even
I collect names now
women who smell like home
taste like forgiveness
and have eyes like birds
who never stop moving
who come into my room
and stay for days
weeks even
then leave when the seasons
change
and wind moves on
to new lovers
and the bay sheds
its skin
for another kind of blue
jelly fish dances
belly water
I search glass windows
study mouths
hum songs
with no lyrics
broken tracks
circles leaking circles
singing
and all the while
Oakland
hums along like a poorly tuned
marching band
and I wake yearning
for her rhythm
spreading like a lake
cut off from its source
trying to forget
and remember
all at once
No comments:
Post a Comment