poems by rachel kellum
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So that I may better love him
The moon in my blood
is not afraid
of the shadowy tents
of your crowded refugee camp,
the stolen doorknobs
of your childhood hospital,
the quiet drawers
of your small corporation,
the crumbling walls
of your rainbow monastery.
It calls them out by name,
locks eyes, says
Tell me why. Take me
to your leader
so that I may kiss
his shining, edgeless face.
2012
with thanks to Valerie Haugen for most of the seventh stanza
Despite
being a child of many pneumonias
bearer of my mother’s tales
of those who fell asleep and never woke
lungs full of death’s water
scarf wrapped tight around neck and mouth
hood up, gloves tucked, buttoned to the throat
I rolled out three forbidden white globes
and made my first frozen man.
A rebel glowing
with countless chest xrays
lungs unstung by cold
I learned how snow sticks to snow
how to tell the truth
of righteous disobedience
for there he stood and I
would not tear us down.
2012
magic for inducing labor
open every cabinet, door
all your precious boxes
kiss the jewels inside their bellies
treasure trunks, unlock them
oil every squeaky drawer
windows, open yawning
overfill your tea cups, bowls
spill them into earthen hollows
belly’s fleshy gate will follow
listen for the ancient knocking
2008/2012
Vision of the Great Mantra
The lazy, dozing deities
and dull knived killers
of my body
the whining pin throats
and misled, missled gods
of my body
the leg humping dogs
and hand wringing humans
of my body
wear every single cell—
each a full body halo
gone orb rainbow
in the great eye
of my body.
There is no place within
I can’t wake. I walk
through the congregation
of my body
like a forest
where everyone sits
under trees half grinning.
2012
Linguistics Lesson
In the dark in my bed
too late for a full night’s rest
my nine year old son
confessed quietly, brightly:
tomato and potato
have always confused me
but now I see their beginnings
are cousins
and their endings
are twins.
I woke up in the morning’s dark
knowing this is true for all
our beginnings and ends
and touched his sleeping head.
2012
Call It What You Will
We’ve prayed with folded arms and mirrored palms
Prostrated, foreheads stinging on the dirt
Meditated silence into sky
We’ve whirled in white toward the inner still
Arranged stones, feathers, candles, shells, and called
Cast love spells and stirred hopeful steaming pots
We’ve drummed the huge heart down dark tunnels
Sweat our prayers dripping into earth
Sung, arms wide, hands loud and mouths great Os
We’ve danced in flaring circles, swayed alone above the hole
Strummed every animal and earthborn string to song
Interlaced our lips and tongues and breasts and bones
We’ve walked the humming walk up every mountain
Rummaged numbered pages with blind fingers
Scribbled obscure words curled outside lines
We’ve painted, planted more than we can see or seed
Gathered lost scraps and sewn them into one
Wielded every kind and lethal tool
All to feel the all move through.
2012