
This selection, chosen by Guest Curator H.V. Cramond, is from My Name & Other Languages I am Learning how to Speak by Jai-Alai Books in 2020.
Requiem for a Rabat Hammam
Steam & my body plump & deranged
as a stormhead. Eden lost
to the whim of teeth, my two hands
hardly a single fig leaf. Even mist
an imagined condemnation
of eyes, light-lean, splitting me
like water splits
against the tiles’ blue sag.
Splash & I was raised that a good woman
bolts knees & binds
indefinite ankles & wears her body
ambiguously, wears her body like a bracelet
that is slipping off her wrist as she walks.
& she is otherwise occupied
ruminating the most effective ways
to vanish. & here my breasts lolling
& my splayed palms urgent
& repentant & incapable of miracle.
Oil & the bald skin slick as tongue.
too freshly shaved & every pore
a conflagration & a woman touches me, black
soaps, sloughs & presses: here the tyrannical
shoulder, here the sinister
arm & back & stomach
yet she does not recoil
& how did I not notice all around—
new mothers, slack-bellied,
their toddlers drumming their gracious thighs;
hipless girls with thready saffron calves;
elders’ wilted calligraphy of folds;
heat & my recent skin becoming
gray flake, washing away with the water.
O how we in the bath
are an alphabet of women.
& for the first time
my hands drop,
my body shouts its name.


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