This Too is a Poem is a Prayer, Unclasping
over the crest of memory:
O gold-rimmed matzo: tremble.
O teeth; stigmata—
then I peel the hard-boiled egg of my own grief.
& what is life but a breaking in
someone’s hands?
Somewhere
fireflies limn the shore of
his limbs celestine. I rend as I remember
I no longer god-walk this sea.
Nor rest the weary hind legs of
a kiss by his ear,
breath unbridled
from the silt-slippery conch-shell of my body:
listen. Hold me and listen
to an ocean
thrashing—
How to wring myself out of this washcloth of remembrance?
I have sopped up the last of his gravy. I am
stained by his laugh.
On my skin on his skin.
& what is love but a seeping in
of sorts?
A running under water,
a gentle rub,
a squeeze,
a laying out?
Originally appeared in Tigers Zine.
Letitia Jiju is an Indian poet who through her work explores the intermingling of mother tongue, religion & generational trauma. Her poems have appeared/are forthcoming in trampset, ANMLY, The Lumiere Review, Moist Poetry Journal, and elsewhere. She reads poetry for Psaltery & Lyre. Find her on Instagram/Twitter @eaturlettuce.
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