(after Harmony Holiday)
reparations begin
here,
within
the body, within
the striations of muscle
to tendon, nerve to tissue
which is what you needed
to know
the first time white hands
touched you
prodding
as they said
for wellness
& what you have needed to know since then
as the body
peeled open
calluses itself
into thickness secretes fluids
shallow as stumbled waves
mute now
the tidal turn
under steelhand of sky
& icy
skin bare of itself
sprawling also
the body
that hurts
as it grows
which at age 11
becomes a peacock colored skirt
in your walk: short $12
a deal the hips they see coming
before you do
the cocooned hidden heart hanging
pupae
in the bowl of the pelvis
shifting color afraid compelled
enthralled
blind too
the body
in its hunt for restoration
the braille of flesh sharp
& collapsing beneath your own fingers
now
you cannot be the softness
you long for click against yourself
ear turned inward thirst crinkled tongue
in dry excavation seeking
a mouth
to hold the body
full & weighted
as a holy word
holy like wreckage
holy like repair
holy like the eye traveling north
in the sky
a mouth
that awakens on the skin
every story the world
has written on
the body
dreamt and re-dreamt
each lunar cycle
the body with its sex
a sea wall wild
with salt spray sacrament to the
pious tongue
the body as a sky of dark stars
the body as the damp forest floor
the only beauty
that has ever continued to hold
above & beneath you
reparations
beginning in the body
as seasons do
opening slow as clockwork
one spring loosing at a time
its own wind of want
the unhidden palm
the hand that does not move
without invitation allowing
the wire of ribs to unfurl
reminds you
what is it to float
to open the bounty balanced
like a jar of honey
on the hipbones honey
like what we offer the river
for sweetness & favor honey
like forgiveness honey down the body
like a prayer
down current
is the sea & in it
the bodies of your grandmothers
in the swaying grace of hymns
in their own dominion
at last
it is not the hands of others
that will keep you tuned
to the body’s artistry
your upturned unclasped palms
sometimes plea sometimes offering
sometimes
acceptance
only your hands
to right it
the body
ridiculous & free
as a praise-song
echoing out of distance
humming itself next to the bones
singing in
