Dig Open

Take months of grown fingernails,
and pick apart these scales.
Make sure they dont cut,
or cover you with slime
and gunk
and stench.
Poke the bare tender skin underneath.
Break the skin
so it will pour blood onto your fingers.
And admit you,
into this deep treasure trove,
of secrets.

Spoils

See?
I told you he would still be here.
And he is,
look at him.

Harmonies lock into place,
skin is against skin.
silence, and the contrast of hues
in the morning because
it's the only time you can actually see.

See?
His mouth yawns open
and pulls shut.

Are we afraid of this light?
Hunger is only ever in the dark.
It's that foolish fear of seeing a feast when you've been starving for so long.
In the light you cannot crunch on the bones,
and rub your fingers slick with oil over your starving skin.
Some feasts are only by the night.

Can you feel this microchasm underneath your touching skins?
The morning's made you soft.
The hungry are never weak,
maybe because they've lost the ability
to speak.

It's hard, in their eyes,
and you can only see it in the dark.
They will cut into the bloody carcass
and shod their fingers with blood.

It's too late to be squeamish:
Don't fear the vultures,

You too feast in the dark.

God no go vex

God never go vex,

So this matter we dey take do long,

e no hia.

god never go vex,

the way you position your thigh,

I swear give you,

he never go vex.

Check like pajamas be the movement.

as you dey wan take time,

i never go vex.

This one no fear dey inside,

no be anything i take do you.

we base,

that one god no go vex.

Homeless

Strange that I have no poetry for you.

None.

I have refused to write it.

I haven’t felt the need to.

And maybe,

I would claim this is fear,

But I know it’s a lie.

And so your box is empty,

Because maybe, I don’t want to remember

this place.

School

Need to reach another plane.

You know how I mean.

Needs to feel like I’ve learned something.

Hair, is fine.

Chuckle, swear.

Don’t tire yet. Lesson’s far from over.

Oh, it’s delicious.

Aren’t you full?

Still hungry?

Teach the contours,

Covers and surfaces.

Scientific names of flora and fauna.

Blossoming, open.

Crying tears of satiation in the summer.

Hot, blankets. It’s sweaty, here.

Wild in here like a jungle.

Dark and light.

Your vision is so blurry it’s clear.

Laugh in breaths out of your nose.

Lament, demand.

Nobody ever watered the earth just once.

A Different History

Great Pan is not dead;

he simply emigrated

to India.

Here, the gods roam freely,

disguised as snakes or monkeys;                                     5

every tree is sacred

and it is a sin

to be rude to a book.

It is a sin to shove a book aside

with your foot,                                     10

a sin to slam books down

hard on a table,

a sin to toss one carelessly

across a room.

You must learn how to turn the pages gently            15

without disturbing Sarasvati,

without offending the tree

from whose wood the paper was made.

Which language

has not been the oppressor’s tongue?             20

Which language

truly meant to murder someone?

And how does it happen

that after the torture,

after the soul has been cropped                        25

with a long scythe swooping out

of the conqueror’s face –

the unborn grandchildren

grow to love that strange language.

By: Sujata Bhatt

Imperator

I have conquered the conqueror.

His knees will buckle for me.

The near-imperator is at my behest:

He will fall to his knees and hail me.