Anodyne

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Anodyne Page 3

by Khadijah Queen


  (I love how you love promises because they are lies)

  (I love the honesty of cheap rings)

  Like a ripened plum or two, pitted—Now a flat middle ground, now

  another

  interior to hold the ruin

  XI.

  Your hair grows in eighths on alternate days but you pretend not to

  count What rains in it

  What grandiose adornment hasn’t happened but will happen Also a

  lie—in color

  XII.

  The grunting you hear on the other side of the wall might be music Or the

  disaster of a concrete floor

  The western cities, the eastern cities / I chose that inscrutable skin

  The high ground of resurrection Discursive—

  falling soft / I witness the guilt planted for others

  I practice by moving my legs I am a bracket

  You are the conquering seawall

  Nothing earth about you except what clean is visible Also your hands

  ECLOGUE FOR PERSONAE

  All the way human, we came to hurt.

  We came via unpredictable route

  via safer lacuna, via habit of wondering

  what desire settles belief in commitment,

  in silence & self-observation

  We came to shell the day-cold,

  bone-filled, language-less

  We arrived in winter,

  a snow-topped mountain range spilled

  adrenaline through the bay window

  samaras of white ash

  We arrived with varied intensity

  As in to make a disturbance

  We came when our eyes burned

  & consent to what we don’t know

  how to heal yet

  We allow for devastation

  Discomfort is for the machine’s sake

  meant to break you or part of you—

  We are not asking

  It feels strange to smile in a fascist era—grief

  dammed up, ancient energy held back

  like certain floods

  We have flooded ourselves, we have flooded

  Nine hazel trees & a mother’s

  body as a door of no return

  A mother’s body as a place we’ve been

  mapped inside of, a galaxy

  pointing toward grit,

  & who can feel the possible

  in their bodies & not break

  toward it—

  (Any closing action)

  THE WORLD SAYS NOT TO EXPECT THE WORLD

  But do it anyway— be made, all

  out of love— taken, bestowed, lived

  through, by means of, without

  the beauty we don’t want

  to waste & the world says it

  wants, but trashes, sees as glut, usable

  in a finite manner We like talk

  of human forevers as holes in us

  unfilled, we’re raggedy apartments

  Which thin glamour to blame for such

  schism, runaways & orchids

  tattooed on wrists or thighs, as dull men scoff—

  We still say keep fighting

  & love me again—don’t the pines die, too

  & exactly with our names

  I WATCH EXACT IN DISCONNECT

  after Anaximander & McMorris

  futile

  a cartographer’s dream to

  graph

  material persistence

  of faults

  ODE TO THE ACCURACY OF INTUITION

  O collagist O montage maker of scenes

  ancient & modern & profane, O superimposer of meaninglessness

  upon the voiceless

  tormented in the gloss

  of daily rags, O the figures magnificently

  gowned in the explosion

  precious untouched, O but not the women whose

  children fly

  limbless into sky or earth

  as men watch or die or kill, O

  painter of rainbows in soldiers’ hands, O gluer of Caucasian smiles

  against atomic skies, O

  Febrezer of Iraq,

  O arranger of models lounging legs open

  in the war zone, bare-assed models in the kitchen

  on fire, cloned acrobats in the verdant 1970s

  fields, fake-lashed

  fine line of the tightest rope,

  O if you left them a net, O a sea of ocelots beneath it

  PRECIPITATION ERASURE

  Rain— blackening

  what’s already slick, dark in ice walk

  season— slip

  free into whose choice

  A script you glove up for, in spiral.

  That small home

  folding screams into lace. Permeable,

  evaporating—

  ANODYNE

  I wish I’d learned to take better care

  As if this world tried to love me

  A body I used up

  on hard ground, flowsy &

  sop-studded, misplacing words

  I keep to settle for pain

  Pitch breaks in—

  body leaning into quiet

  I couldn’t ask for, what I needed

  & thought I couldn’t afford. A shun,

  undone, a hush a shudder through

  thinned fascicles of flesh &

  flimsy bone, walkward

  in a lost idiom. Are we on a heartway?

  We could pretend. Calculate

  how immaculate hardship

  covets itself

  Acts like it aches for more

  IMMINENCE

  Bergen County, New Jersey

  A pair, young, embrace—heels lift,

  arms encircle, not expecting

  lifetimes to come next, bodies grown taller

  in a blink, imagine they’ve yet to be

  pulled by the wrist into supermarkets,

  by the hair into adolescence,

  by the sorrow-struck heart into graffiti or frantic

  streets, dim & touch-starved, can we? If

  even our buried objects strike us

  as reversal of sky, & we look down

  only in the wrong seasons

  at what sustains our weight

  & containment means existing inside, & when

  we contain we are contained in time, in place,

  in memory, those immensities

  we forbid ourselves, so vast

  our resistance as infinite tininess, defiance

  an Atlantic problem, hallucination, worse,

  cello-soundtracked—a course of recovery

  amid strewn bricks, dead acres &

  plastic-laden foliage trudging

  along the Passaic, past wrought-

  iron fences green with corrosion, foresight absent

  denial—choices to make for the labyrinth

  NJ TRANSIT PASSENGER ODE

  On the way home from the MoMA I decide

  I want those blue patent leather peep-toe

  stilettos & hardback Japanese novel with silver

  bookmark scissored dead center

  I want vegetarian gumbo

  I want snapper & trout blackened on the spit

  I want feet that don’t swell &

  veins that don’t threaten varicosity

  I want that lean man to kiss me

  on the back of the neck & smile

  when he whispers, so I can feel what he means

  between breaths—the truth of all performance

  I want that heiress ease

  minus the trickle-down

  I want to clear the Lincoln Tunnel

  Shit I want 24-hour service

  to be unnecessary

  I want to sleep at night

  & when I do I want dreams

  like the one last April

  My family all lived

  in the same place

  long enough to grow daffodils & safe babies

  I want to kn
ow

  who’s walking toward them on the street

  I want a real salve, a cool

  wet cloth & jasmine tea

  I want to bow down with

  my arms breaking earth

  until it grows more delicious

  than shaved dimes between

  my grandmother’s teeth

  I want the city’s lights to stop

  telling me that bedtime story—the song

  I can’t get enough of—the swagger

  keeping me hooked

  ANCIENT MOTHER I KEEP TEACHING US NEW WAYS TO FIND JOY

  I draw no propriety My island is recursive So I have a son

  whose brilliance : :

  isn’t understood yet I know how to make a frail body

  look perfect but not a sad mind or a world

  that can’t catch up Since I cannot run

  I stretch my thoughts fight my voice

  low like water in air extinction

  : what continuum : I return

  fallen My illnesses in secular lifetimes—no matter

  Sound makes space in the throat in a glint euphonic

  small lights free affection I face

  those prepared for open force those who favor weapons

  My caution limited

  to what might exhaust this brittle form, easily spent

  muscles, bones ready to snap How to weasel a monsoon

  I have instead

  50 ways to plummet if I slip twice

  will it rain again before : the Trance : How is joy

  a ruptured curse if I get more tattoos as a crone

  will my withering get more or less respect from whom

  I didn’t perceive where imaginary lives cacophonized

  into the real How my skin handles certain atrophy is akin to

  what I devote to trust How does one outstretch the practical

  in hiding from husbandry A violin can whistle

  if you want it to The sun a warm tint on a bad photograph Who am I

  without this danger & with this naiveté, protected still

  I’m sitting too long

  Of what would I be afraid

  AFTERLIGHT ERASURE

  The pain is willing &

  I suffer—

  A good mother does what it takes.

  privilege made peace with

  trust.

  Sometimes force

  means react right—

  Right of escape until

  that body has fled. Until that scene

  eludes

  jubilance—

  what’s left

  COMMON MIRACLES

  Across the definition of blue A dozen

  Rave in disappearing patterns—

  Quarrel of sparrows

  Branches beam full green

  Bebel sings A falling star is here & with us

  cavaquinho, fado, mandolin

  Invisibly A cracked bone stitches itself a whitened scar

  over and over—caixa wires

  Breath culled under cuica, timbal

  A wasp on the stone poolside for a monument

  I WATCH THE ENDLESS BREAKAGE OF WINGS

  after Mothlight & McMorris

  the light beauty

  death sped up

  blue-black

  the sepia

  the white behind

  translucence

  the rage

  the whirl of it

  like falling like

  a false flight

  ROUTE

  Unlit, we left

  at break, rode south

  Turned hard

  left up canyon, up

  rockslide-paved wind-sown

  center of buttes

  Lungs opened

  to river down into

  cut cliffs

  White-topped

  energy shift

  over plain hills Played over

  steep rock vein

  Cut body

  coming to memory as arid

  An astonishing

  Sea of sagebrush, sand,

  low forest of scrub pine

  Tough piñon

  Failing as cow shade

  A rural rust

  Cloud shadows’ chatoyancy

  veneers mid-range peaks

  Radiant as green rise

  Laneside

  Acres, acres of which

  We cannot

  divine from dust

  Terrain blue from

  sky influence

  A true mesa

  Crow on the median

  Perfect light-leveling rock

  jut & lone antelope

  facing fallen gates

  Trailers left beside

  a homeless staircase

  Music changes

  at the boundary imagined

  between horses &

  housing debris

  Who can live

  Next to what’s falling apart

  DOUBLE LIFE

  Last night I split a bottle

  plus a glass of white, a clear

  Cali sauv that first woke me then

  put me to sleep. In between

  bites of poblano soup & spicy

  slaw on bootleg street tacos we ran

  off each random white man who thought

  he could eat in our silence

  with our crass laughter & endless

  sentences about oppression in work

  life & bloodstreams, ours & others’

  & who did they think could escape now,

  collision of fear & brazenness

  clapping together in historical play

  across the moving planet. Erika says

  a woman named Chocoletta

  saved her from boss-led persecution

  & I say or think something like

  Her mother had vision

  & the power in a Black woman’s name

  saves us all. Hungover & overworked

  this morning I get my tax bill. Doubled

  my income last year, so owe double too.

  I wish I could pull a Thoreau but

  I’m only 41.8% white. If only I could just be

  chased off a bar stool at The Hornet

  on Broadway after eating a plate of fake nachos

  & drinking a warm pilsner. Instead I fear

  the end of a chase ending in blood,

  mine or someone I love & I love us all

  & so many of my white friends know

  how to help ease my way out of wreck. I show up

  at the university in bold new professor

  leather & tweed, elbow-patched & afraid I’ll learn to

  pontificate too much by default, or tell

  too much truth, or be much too

  Black to be trusted. I notice

  one of my white male students leaves the room

  every time we talk about race. My therapist tells me

  I should put things like that in the container

  I made up for what I can’t control & I do. This job

  isn’t writing at all & I’m burning

  too fast, afraid to combust &

  afraid I won’t. For dessert we split

  peach cobbler topped with vanilla ice cream.

  I don’t eat dairy so she spooned it up & I basked

  in the warm sugar & fruit & surprise of

  caramel crisscrossed on the just-right crust,

  remembering my grandmother & the smell of

  nutmeg & cinnamon in her kitchen, fresh peaches

  simmering in syrup in an old pot on the gas stove,

  her fingers pinching quick dough, remembering

  her permanent frown as a pair of mirrored crescents

  between her eyes, the map of lines on her forehead,

  & as we speak I am inheriting the furrows

  earned rightfully by crones. If you do it quickly,

  Grandma said, you can heal burns without leaving a scar.

  Smooth your injured skin then
peel

  & cut a potato in two

  & hold each rinsed half to the heated flay

  until the potato turns black. Repeat

  until it looks like nothing ever happened.

  Uncle Sugarpie raised her

  & her sisters in Michigan because white men

  lynched her father in Alabama & threatened

 

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