BURQA

Peggy in "Change+ing Room," at Fahimeh Vahdat's exhibit, October 2012

  

remove glasses and

slip under black cloak

I peer through a slit

pressing down on thick eyelids

            inside mother’s protective womb

            cushioned in layers of fluid, muscle, bony pelvis, skin

            you cannot see me but I hear you

            hear everything

in silent blackout

breath condenses

under synthetic silk

           

            forming heart, lungs, ovaries

            limbs curled into trunk

walking through a crowd

space clears for me

like a road opens for an ambulance

            you do not know what I will become

            you do not know the generations of women’s rage I embody

            to you I am a bump yet unconscious

sensing my silent steps

conversation stops

sitting still I become invisible

eavesdrop on the last time I was in Turkey

and dinner plans

downtown or third ward?

            gestational I am carrier

            of my grandmother’s untold stories

            the egg that would hatch me

            formed in her womb

            as she carried my mother

eyes glance then dart away           

better to not look

an unspoken complicity

let’s not talk to her

            what lengths will you take to ignore me?

            what would I reveal given the chance?

            what threat does the curve of my hips present?

            clavicles, cleavage, clitoris?

           

cloaked and alone

in the eye of my own churning hurricane

I must hide my hands under black cloth

afraid of what they will commit

           

 

EMBRACING IMPERMANENCE

 

summary of my past weekend in detroit, with thanks to meiko, marcia, robby, colette, erin, nerissa, jess, grace, shea, and shout out to mary oliver

be outside at dusk to watch the first stars appear

make this your nightly prayer

as you step out of the car

lost on highway 23

a shooting star from leo soars directly overhead

a million eyes in the sky

now you can gaze back at the stars

that watch you as they always do

they ask:

what will you do with your one wild and precious life?

let your uterus speak

your kidneys and lungs

your perimenopausal thyroid and pineal glands

let your ears ring when you dance in front of the woofer

you will lose your hearing one day anyway

just as you will lose everything

your mother’s silverware

your father’s publications

the burden of your reputation

stomp it underfoot on the concrete dance floor

promote shamelessness

as a step into the emergence of interconnected self

infuriate as many people as you inspire

move to detroit so you can throw away your bras

to embrace the reality of 49 year old breasts

spent on nourishing your young

choose what is most impermanent

like stir-fried vegetables for grace

on a tray carried to her house each night at 5

value what is most ephemeral

snow melting before it touches the sidewalk

tail of the meteor disappearing into night sky

boycott the media and create your own news

by learning ukulele and writing songs

fill your car with drums, your kombucha jug and record albums

leave everything else behind

forsake the sham of middle class security

your 401K, health insurance, a pension

spend your savings on avocados, limes, and mixed greens

make guacamole your new currency

place yourself at the mercy of strangers

cross double yellow lines to make u-turms on train tracks

after all it’s never too late

let your phone battery die and rely on telepathy

stand on your head and gaze out the window

at bare trees older than your house that needs tuckpointing

listen to the foghorns detroit sunday dawn

if the stars can fall

                                    no problem

                                                            so can you

pkh 18 November 2012

WORM BY WORM

for Milwaukee, Growing Power, Will Allen, and all our local farmers

in 21^st century post-industrial milwaukee

city of foreclosures and soaring joblessness

the earth calls us forth to heal her

she’s been paved over, toxins dumped, trees sheared away

with emptied houses

closed schools

lunch programs cut

where is her silver spring?

industrialized then abandoned

we remake the earth

worm by worm

black gold

new earth smells like morning

like renewal

smells like community

ingesting all that we have discarded

the worms welcome it all

tree pulp beaten and bleached into paper

processed foods moldering and slimy

throw-aways of our material world

wriggling red worms

like the earth coming alive

the earth has been waiting for us to come and renew her

withstanding temporary devastation

by industry run amok

she knew we would return turn

turning over the compost pile

sift and sieve

nourishment everywhere

city hall gardens of mustard and cabbage

we walk through and graze during lunch hour

bovine, leaving hoofmarks of work shoes in the earth

beat your swords into plowshares

trade in your gun for a pitchfork

the weapon of choice

after all anyone can take life

but only the brave can make life

make kale and collards that survive the wisconsin winter

worm by redworm

polypropelene hoophouses the new native architecture

covering the milwaukee landscape

those who grow their own food

grow their own souls

families and communities

the worms teach us how to re-weave the fabric of community

neighborhood harvest parties

corn roasts

catch up on gossip at the local farmer’s market

worm by worm

mother earth’s revolutionaries