Looking For Gold | Pencils

1

this woman –

her fascination with wood/would not let her

be/

once a month she would/wood

wrap herself in grandma's scarves –

floral print and paisley –

constellations in the sky

 - out of fireworks for the dead/

    bombings for the living -

constellations leading her on

once a month/coinciding with

wo – men/strua/tion –

even inside her caves

they have taken her wood

leaving her nothing but walls

walls –

HB pencils

and history pages

2

wooden boats/paper thin

carry me/carrying weight

under my breasts/swollen

with life/

to jabal Mussa/mountain top

at day break

shadowing under her udder –

full – drinking/fast/breaking my si'yaam

to ease the flow –

her eyes

bright as kusuf covering the sun –

watching me/

her eyes –

maha -

maha eyes -

cow eyes -

at my V –

knowing

it is not yet

time

3

it was not until then – after so many

still births/that

she had a woman

lusting over wood the same way/

smearing lead on her skin instead of

tattooing henna/

making houses out of sharpened pencils –

their roofs out of shavings/petals fresh from

sharpening them good –

it was not until then

  – that was a fragment/neither she nor her

     would fall into –

but it was not until then –

until she bled tree trunks

and sawdust –

that it as all released –

mar – yam –

river flowing –

and her long awaited

mawluda

was here/feeding from the moon/

writing with HB pencils/

on paper soft as molasses/

swimming in wo-oden/wo-man circles

every month –

it was not until then -

that she rested

and stopped writing

what im writing now