STILL

Posted by Alysia Harris | Filed under Poetry, Print

Tell me feet first.
Airport peeled and travel streaked
sand in my teeth, tasting like where you’ve been
absent. Nuzzling your calf with my toes when we cuddle
and guess:
Were you 30 men meatpacked in an open air van?
Were you a hair pin in a hijab,
you chain with threads; wink in the wind?
Were you a dead stray, belly
bloated, face up praying the elements take it
slow? Were you the sole of Old City?
Were you where you belong but as out of place as a
pink conch in a desert. Not all sands
the same.
Bedouin ears pressed to your
voicebox demanding miracles,
far from sure. But I keep it up.
I know there are no maps
where you came from
distance still
judged in hand/ hectares, height still measured in God
Were you a slave’s intestines twisting into oxbows when he thinks
“home”? Were you ever in a mosque built like a cathedral?
Were you my tears carried on
the backs of ants made of mascara,
the apple core trail they leave behind,
or a reel of film leading to someone old’s grave?
You were never a pair of broken necked tourists
but once, once you were a dirty look coming clean in my eyes.
Yeah, a few times you were Quasimodo, and I Esmeralda, arab
as she was, surprised and unable to cover
my face quick enough.
We were face to face and even then,
were you ever close enough to be mine?
Were you ever innocent?
Were you ever Lord of the flies?
Tell me were you ever magpies
singing or a kilt mockingbird?
Where you were, were you sick of island hopping inside
yourself, chatting with beach balls, drawing
escape plans from paradise?
Were you a
table dancer balancing between
the stars and a corona
or just a boy
pockets full of rocks?
Were you at peace or just at the edge?
Were you ever anything more than a full house
of chance and a bluff quivering on the tongue,
Were you ever shaken like that?
Are you still now?

Permalink | Other posts by Alysia Harris| August 17th, 2009

4 Responses to “STILL”

  1. Garrett Carey Says:
    August 20th, 2009 at 4:45 pm

    i think this is my favorite poem from you aly. gets better every time i read it

    “Were you where you belong but as out of place as a
    pink conch in a desert. Not all sands
    the same.”
    absolutely gorgeous.

    “but once, once you were a dirty look coming clean in my eyes.”
    my god, woman

  2. Melissa Pavri Says:
    September 27th, 2009 at 5:15 pm

    This is my favorite poem, so so so fly.

  3. jchowell03 Says:
    December 13th, 2009 at 11:57 pm

    Where you were, were you sick of island hopping inside
    yourself, chatting with beach balls, drawing
    escape plans from paradise?

    Dopest lines ever!

  4. Princess Taverna Says:
    June 26th, 2010 at 1:52 am

    I love this poem! Alysia’s great! :) I also love the one entitled “JOY” and the other one with lines: “You, like a crippled, old Oak tree stuck in its ways, are afraid that one day you won’t be the last one standing.” I would love to have a copy of the said poems coz I can’t find it on the internet. :( If anyone could send it to me please @ dyan.taverna@gmail.com.

    Many thanks!

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