EXERCISE IN REMEMBERING HOME
by emet ezell
silken handkerchiefs flap and wither: a welcome sent backwards in time.
i am just now pouring my morning coffee,
sitting on a porch in the country of porches, forcing the word diaspora from my hips.
hands cracked from crisp air. bags packed, throat sore. imagined sex appeal of placefulness.
my grandmother’s birth certificate: somewhere, russia?
i summon the small white squares and their specifics.
seagulls of men re-name the river. we drop out of tongue on a boat,
estrangement on the water.
the shape of god on the brink of spring. black rooster curdles the morning hum.
between mockingbird and red finch, a memory of brothers.
i haven’t spoken to them in eight years. how to explain it, other than this--
we inhabit different questions.
the moon a radish. a ranunculus. a raisin. i speak more with the dead than the living.
slouch into coveralls; wait for the sky to pronounce my name.
i am learning to migrate and never to hustle. here, in the front yard,
the pepperweed whistles between wars. blooms.
i am just now pouring my morning coffee,
sitting on a porch in the country of porches, forcing the word diaspora from my hips.
hands cracked from crisp air. bags packed, throat sore. imagined sex appeal of placefulness.
my grandmother’s birth certificate: somewhere, russia?
i summon the small white squares and their specifics.
seagulls of men re-name the river. we drop out of tongue on a boat,
estrangement on the water.
the shape of god on the brink of spring. black rooster curdles the morning hum.
between mockingbird and red finch, a memory of brothers.
i haven’t spoken to them in eight years. how to explain it, other than this--
we inhabit different questions.
the moon a radish. a ranunculus. a raisin. i speak more with the dead than the living.
slouch into coveralls; wait for the sky to pronounce my name.
i am learning to migrate and never to hustle. here, in the front yard,
the pepperweed whistles between wars. blooms.
emet ezell is a community organizer, public song leader, and poet. They are the author of the chapbook BETWEEN EVERY BIRD, OUR BONES (Newfound, 2022), which was selected by Chen Chen as winner of the 2021 Gloria Anzlaldúa Poetry Prize. Their writing has been published in or is forthcoming from: Mizna, Waxwing, Southern Humanities Review, and PM Press. You can find more of their work here: https://emetezell.com/.