"There were always oak leaves stuck to my skirt. I felt we were unbuilding each other."


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Issue6: No More Tears

BobSward's Writer's Friendship Series

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Aquick list to poets featured in this issue:

MaryMoore

KateBenedict

JamesWalton Fox

JaneBlue

TomGoff

KateLutzner

HeatherBurns

MariaMelendez

KarenAlkalay-Gut

LaverneFrith

LauraAnn Walton

RogerPfingston

ScottOdom

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Contact
BeiDao

MariaMelendez

InBiruté's Camp

 Suppose God is looking for a good
  piece, who could be you with that bare
   strip of scalp parting your long hair,
  braided loose and looped up in the swamp heat,
 sweat curling around your small, bristly eyebrows,
  your hands gleaming with juice and pulp
 as you hammer fruit on the feeding platform.

 That strange orangutan,
 thehuman-raised one called Pan-gan,
 who throws men off the dock
like an overzealous baptizer, may
 be a god and here he comes
padding side to side onto your platform in the swamp.
 If he curves the ridiculous length of his
 tendon-riddledarms around your waist
 andwrestles you down to the wooden boards,
 scream–he'sbitingyouhe'stryingtokillyou–no,
 he'spushing up your skirt–

  become limp below the waist and make your torso
 a flexible branch for him to squeeze
  as he swivels from one world to the next;
 (now he is very calm and deliberate,

 now his eyes roll upward)

 When he finally moves off
  the feeding platform and into the trees,
 rise into this loss, which is relief:
  his seed will dribble out of you, unrecognized.
 
 

    Note: In her book Return to Eden, Biruté Galdikas, a prominent researcher of orangutan ecology, documents the rape of one of her camp assistants by a male ex-captive orangutan named Gundul.

___________________________________

TheUnformed Heart

Askher if she regrets anything.

Iwas
daydreamingtiny serpents–
Iworked in a lab.
Wemagnify events
whenthere are questions.
Weprobe the source data.

Askher how he touched her.

Inever wondered why.
Itall seemed natural.

Askher how he touched her.

Hisvoice swung to me
likea rope ladder.

Askher what she remembers.

Therewere always oak leaves
stuckto my skirt.
Ifelt we were unbuilding each other.

Anaddictive molecular fit
whenhe stood near,
somenear-combustive cellular groan:

   oh, you again–
   aren't we beautiful?

Chromosomesbecame
dividedadders
swimmingto their poles
andI refused.

Thismade us closer,
likeshared deformity.

Askher if drowning hurts.

We'dfallen through so many lifetimes
tohear blue oaks commanding us
tokiss.

Askher if drowning hurts.

Unlikespawning,
   I went inland
forthe procedure.
Outside,a crow was panting in the ash tree.

Youexpect to search forever for a soul mate
througha world submerged in surprise.

Supposeyou actually meet–

   the ungodly consequences.

Doyou regret this love?

   Long before I was touched, we were fused.

   It was the fault
   of the planet.
   Even blue oaks slip
 toward extinction,
   perched high on their primary need
 when water is far below.

______________________________________________________________________
 

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