my body snuggled, smuggled into this land
my body not small enough to
fit in uterine cavities and mongoose
throats and tubal apparatus
I am the drug of cultures –
my body trafficked across acres under lids
my face remains a foreign country
my back, the pumpjack necessity of
your people, common soilI am the drug of cultures -
my body pinned in between wars
my language hidden in prayers
I am contraband and you still label me
contra land
Day 6 of the 30 Day Poetry Challenge for National Poetry Month was to write a poem about your last facebook post. I decided to write what came out of me instead.
No comments:
Post a Comment