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“You were a city exiled from skin, your mouth a burning church.”
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
“Grandfather’s Hands
Your grandfather’s hands were brown.
Your grandmother kissed each knuckle,
circled an island into his palm
and told him which parts they would share,
which part they would leave alone.
She wet a finger to draw where the ocean would be
on his wrist, kissed him there,
named the ocean after herself.
Your grandfather’s hands were slow but urgent.
Your grandmother dreamt them,
a clockwork of fingers finding places to own–
under the tongue, collarbone, bottom lip,
arch of foot.
Your grandmother names his fingers after seasons–
index finger, a wave of heat,
middle finger, rainfall.
Some nights his thumb is the moon
nestled just under her rib.
“Your grandparents often found themselves
in dark rooms, mapping out
each other’s bodies,
claiming whole countries
with their mouths.”
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
Your grandfather’s hands were brown.
Your grandmother kissed each knuckle,
circled an island into his palm
and told him which parts they would share,
which part they would leave alone.
She wet a finger to draw where the ocean would be
on his wrist, kissed him there,
named the ocean after herself.
Your grandfather’s hands were slow but urgent.
Your grandmother dreamt them,
a clockwork of fingers finding places to own–
under the tongue, collarbone, bottom lip,
arch of foot.
Your grandmother names his fingers after seasons–
index finger, a wave of heat,
middle finger, rainfall.
Some nights his thumb is the moon
nestled just under her rib.
“Your grandparents often found themselves
in dark rooms, mapping out
each other’s bodies,
claiming whole countries
with their mouths.”
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
“My faith is what they bury when they force me to expose it.”
― The Geometry of God
― The Geometry of God
“The real me lives in words, not in what words mean.”
―
―
“The Kitchen
Half a papaya and a palmful of sesame oil;
lately, your husband’s mind has been elsewhere.
Honeyed dates, goat’s milk;
you want to quiet the bloating of salt.
Coconut and ghee butter;
he kisses the back of your neck at the stove.
Cayenne and roasted pine nuts;
you offer him the hollow of your throat.
Saffron and rosemary;
you don’t ask him her name.
Vine leaves and olives;
you let him lift you by the waist.
Cinnamon and tamarind;
lay you down on the kitchen counter.
Almonds soaked in rose water;
your husband is hungry.
Sweet mangoes and sugared lemon;
he had forgotten the way you taste.
Sour dough and cumin;
but she cannot make him eat, like you.”
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
Half a papaya and a palmful of sesame oil;
lately, your husband’s mind has been elsewhere.
Honeyed dates, goat’s milk;
you want to quiet the bloating of salt.
Coconut and ghee butter;
he kisses the back of your neck at the stove.
Cayenne and roasted pine nuts;
you offer him the hollow of your throat.
Saffron and rosemary;
you don’t ask him her name.
Vine leaves and olives;
you let him lift you by the waist.
Cinnamon and tamarind;
lay you down on the kitchen counter.
Almonds soaked in rose water;
your husband is hungry.
Sweet mangoes and sugared lemon;
he had forgotten the way you taste.
Sour dough and cumin;
but she cannot make him eat, like you.”
― Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth
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