Poesía

Abstract

Poesía Niki Herd (bio) And on the Front Page and on the front pageof the newspaper, the corpses of twelve Mexicans lie insideboxes, each packed generic in cardboard, like an appliancewaiting to be delivered brand new—and what of somewoman, any woman with skin the color of dirtwho ain't never had nothing. She stands by a door and is greetedby a box, the lines on her face deep like those back roads heading northwhere a man who could be her son rests on a border patrol stretcherthe balm of vomit and spit on lips a catheter stuck inside his dick.He is young and fine, but the sun is not a friend, it reminds himof his place as it shines on his black hair, and the arrowthrough the heart painted on his arm. [End Page 187] Sestina1 for Abdur-Rahim Jackson There's that certain way you have of talkingthat has always kept a spell over me. Snap—snap your fingers and I am walkinglike a dog, thirsty, tethered to your lead. The song says you make me feel like dancingand I'm going to dance the night away in this here airport, I will pave a waythrough like those that came before me talking yes sirs, yes mams, big eyes and lips dancinginside white pantries. Ain't got to tell me shuffling me, more than once to take your leadwhile my dark cowrie shell skin tries walking straight into the promise land where sidewalksteethe and bleed, lines drawn in sand shift away to percussive beats made by bombs of lead.And the world keeps shouting: peace talks, peace talks. The good book, Koran, somebody's god, mygod, lovely mists of white phosphorus dance over the spectacle of a dancertrying to prove he's no terrorist walk man—wasn't it Hughes that said life for mecertainly ain't been no crystal stairway? Or is an arched black back the gods talkinga poised foot prayer, a reverence led by the same day old song, like the leadingsay—dragging of a man, that hard dancing in Jasper, Texas, what didactic talk [End Page 188] between the body and the road he walked between the neck severing itself awayfrom the head—coming forth to carry me sings byrd while security studies mein the circle of spotlight, a leading role as an audience steers eyes my wayto the staging of a black man dancing in an airport, and bodies walk and walksomewhere, and like dice, brothers shoot talk somewhere away in cities far from methey talk about how their boy childs will lead and dance on the unforgivable walk. [End Page 189] war poem #1 and after the bombson halloween they are childrenpure children not touched by the waysof grown folk they will walk door to dooreat candy and giggle as if strange musicgives voice to the dead [End Page 190] an excerpt from Praise House ii Become a bride in a place that looks like thisthe hardness of wedding stone hovering & guarding symphony & stream. There is beauty in this: how we learn by repetition how we die by repetition. In the high schoolyear book, there was once a girl a girl with lips [End Page 191] extended upward to the moon & scribbled names written in hollowcursive letters said things like most likely to succeed, or stay young & sweet then there were the numbers: [End Page 192] 24: age at time of death 5: number of bullets8: months pregnant 99: the year the prince said we were all going to die [End Page 193] Old folks sayyou can tell much about a man by the way he kills let the choir sing all their namessing glory glory hallelujah. [End Page 194] v Sitting beneath the sun this accordion of fire counting the days eyes saw & could not see & counting the passing of time backwardsby hand one day, one finger at a time & underneath a canopy of rain underneath the sea brown...