stonepicnicking_okapi: otherwords (otherwords)
[personal profile] stonepicnicking_okapi
Below, in the cut, I am including Section I of Louise Glück’s October which inspired this poem.

The Owl by Gia Anansi-Shakur

after Louise Glück’s “October”

Violence has changed
me something beautiful
worldly, not comfortable
living in a mouth

I’ve long made habit
of pulling off my skin
by the forearm
at night
joining the arteries
of lapping tongues and hardened wounds.

I’ve found joy
meditating on the quality
of my self served stigmatas
fracturing the columns
of holy books

An owl opens its mouth
a church bell climbs out
akimbo
She has learned
to tightrope in the dark

---

October (section I) by Louise Glück

Is it winter again, is it cold again,
didn’t Frank just slip on the ice,
didn’t he heal, weren't the spring seeds planted

didn’t the night end,
didn’t the melting ice
flood the narrow gutters

wasn’t my body
rescued, wasn’t it safe

didn’t the scar form, invisible
above the injury

terror and cold,
didn’t they just end, wasn’t the back garden
harrowed and planted—

I remember how the earth felt, red and dense,
in stiff rows, weren’t the seeds planted,
didn’t vines climb the south wall

I can’t hear your voice
for the wind’s cries, whistling over the bare ground

I no longer care
what sound it makes

when was I silenced, when did it first seem
pointless to describe that sound

what it sounds like can’t change what it is—

didn’t the night end, wasn’t the earth
safe when it was planted

didn’t we plant the seeds,
weren’t we necessary to the earth,

the vines, were they harvested?

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