The space between us arid and vomit-yellow the way I would imagine sand looks
for days on end if its all you ever see
matching our very own baby-poop colored llama-
on a ride. Birth-right Israel. Summer 2006.
body in my old lover’s arms there,
thin and resentful in the face
of my relentless loud resistance
that some might call
complaining
indigestible Zionism
put on our plates day after day with hummus and instant coffee and olives
as bitter and salty as my cheeks
as watery as my intestines
Somewhere between Tel-aviv and Palestine
Was the ‘I love Israel’ amphitheater
With its wealthy American Jewish kids getting drunk
Having climbed on top of the glorious backs of the gray-green army tanks that brought us
Safety in these borders
We have it all now, don’t we?
His arms became large with the expanse of the crowd--
amidst the cacophony and collision
Waves broke inside me right there in the middle
Pounding in my forehead: Beer and tanks. Beer and tanks. Beer and tanks.
Water and questions
“What is there to celebrate within this scent of unjustified death circling?"
There was no cover here
Everything exposed: desert
His long curls waved in the wind and he held my hand as we walked through the crowds
not readily parting for us
Our wandering ceased through following
a distant sound of drumming
A small circle voices almost drowned
India white shirts glistened in the sunlight against long black locks
I was offered a drum and took it
pericardium pulse met my sacrum my hands
and the surrounding countries
When the real show began we could no longer hear ourselves
Yet I held the beat close in the drunken girls toilet-paperless bathroom
On the bus ride and the ensuing days -- Negev mountains
Small stone caverns
where they say mystics lived for days
without end
now deep breathing
is not possible due
to the stench of stale piss
Arabic and Israeli mixed
---
Here I found
some lost corner of my Mother’s belly
Vomit yellow hills, purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
Slowly I learned to replace my sponge holes with her spikes
My disgust with her
for days on end if its all you ever see
matching our very own baby-poop colored llama-
on a ride. Birth-right Israel. Summer 2006.
body in my old lover’s arms there,
thin and resentful in the face
of my relentless loud resistance
that some might call
complaining
indigestible Zionism
put on our plates day after day with hummus and instant coffee and olives
as bitter and salty as my cheeks
as watery as my intestines
Somewhere between Tel-aviv and Palestine
Was the ‘I love Israel’ amphitheater
With its wealthy American Jewish kids getting drunk
Having climbed on top of the glorious backs of the gray-green army tanks that brought us
Safety in these borders
We have it all now, don’t we?
His arms became large with the expanse of the crowd--
amidst the cacophony and collision
Waves broke inside me right there in the middle
Pounding in my forehead: Beer and tanks. Beer and tanks. Beer and tanks.
Water and questions
“What is there to celebrate within this scent of unjustified death circling?"
There was no cover here
Everything exposed: desert
His long curls waved in the wind and he held my hand as we walked through the crowds
not readily parting for us
Our wandering ceased through following
a distant sound of drumming
A small circle voices almost drowned
India white shirts glistened in the sunlight against long black locks
I was offered a drum and took it
pericardium pulse met my sacrum my hands
and the surrounding countries
When the real show began we could no longer hear ourselves
Yet I held the beat close in the drunken girls toilet-paperless bathroom
On the bus ride and the ensuing days -- Negev mountains
Small stone caverns
where they say mystics lived for days
without end
now deep breathing
is not possible due
to the stench of stale piss
Arabic and Israeli mixed
---
Here I found
some lost corner of my Mother’s belly
Vomit yellow hills, purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
purple thistle-ridden
Slowly I learned to replace my sponge holes with her spikes
My disgust with her
unapologetic expansiveness.
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