Language Study
BY JANAN ALEXANDRA
Like how the word massacre massacres
or murmur murmurs & destruction’s three syllables
all those hard c’s & t’s seem to bring buildings to their knees,
mounds of shatter & ash where once was plenitude.
How mercy begets mercy & strapped to mercy’s back
is thanks who thanks & thanks in a joyful gust
not unlike, sometimes, the exclamation point; other times
comes in quiet with a knapsack slung over one shoulder,
some good pens & snacks inside, fresh apricots
to share. & here the mother mourning
dove watches intently each time we open the door
beneath her nest, her eyes round & wide & wet
with black water while in that same moment children
play in the street & by the sea & at their desks
& can be suddenly shredded midair, which too,
its very sound signals terror & the redness of injury.
Over & over again human history teaches us to endure
& though it has the smaller “end” in it, & though it means
to suggest something hard, its sound is long & soft
having no clear start or stop.
Day 68
BY JANAN ALEXANDRA
previously published in AGNI
I declare it a day of pleasure.
My flag says, Play. Sing a little song.
Says, Travel along.
I wave my flag made of dirt
and snow-dipped trees. It softens
in the rain, new letters forming
to say, Free. Can you see it?
I pledge allegiance. I’m keeping a ledger,
precious measure, seeking daylight
for the world-dark brain, hoping
this might be the break between
grief & rage. Landing softly all night.
What is pleasurable? When the body
can lie on uncratered ground. Touching my own
feet. My love’s warm hands like a spoon rest.
The roundness of the word spouse
and how it suggests sparrow and house,
all of which now have a home here.
What is sure to please? Havingahomehere.
Finding a bluish feather in the hushed
meadow. Gazing out the window.
To live each day without shrapnel
in the dictionary, in the air, with no
possibility of shrapnel in the calf, in the ear.
Call me naive, I won’t care.
War backwards is raw. I repeat:
What is pleasurable?
There’s no square but repair. No eye
no tooth. Hand on your heart. No nation
I declare but being together.
No bombing campaign. Try a songbird
campaign. Make way for the grass
-child and sea-child and child of rain.
