Milk
Women may not kiss the icons during menstruation
Women may not enter the church for forty days after giving birth
Women may not enter behind the altar for fear of complete hair loss
It is traditional for mothers to slap their daughters violently and unexpectedly when they are bleeding for the first time
*
I kneel at your velvet feet
I from between the legs mouth the fatty segments of your ancient fingers
Archangel Michael has most of my skin and brain cells under his finger nails
‘Driver of the Blind’
A thousand grandmothers’ spines snap
‘Driver of the Blind’
while I swing my ankles desperately in circles, one clockwise one anti clockwise
Kicking stale air up into myself
bleeding wound I am about like a drop of rain on my nose
self is excessive must be contained
But I contract and escape into my jeans
‘Driver of the Blind’
The women are reading the sermon
The women are reading the sermon
*
the grace of I at
your velvet feet
I from between the legs of your ancient face
Archangel Michael the dirt of my felt tip outline underneath his finger nails
Steps out from the left hand of God
Cups my chin bites both my lips and thrusts a cigarette in between them
‘the blind’?
A thousand grandmothers’ spines
while I my ankles desperately in circles, one clockwise one anti clockwise
stale air up inside myself as if it will the bleeding wound I’m about like a drop of rain on my nose
My self-excessive I must into jeans
*
I turn my head and sore lips forlorn to look at him
Archangel Michael squats in the doorway like thunder on the boundary of the sky and prays:
“Dear Capital
Be careful you! Wipe your biro freckles off from your real ones
embrace your body of desire
Bodies that wilt and chub and sap like trees…”
*
blood traverses the tributaries of my thighs and calves, weaving through protein formations that formed in the womb extensions of myself that were once alive
it provokes the collapsed arches of my feet and pools on the varnished floor desanitising the erotic capital, irritating the father and interrupting the hymns it slowly permeates the silk scarves of the elderly women and makes wonderful patterns on my socks
I am materialising and it scares the shit out of me
I am materialising and it scares the shit out of you
*
Mike spits phlegm onto the red carpet and continues in the doorway:
“I am diasporic
I listen to the old songs of the land
The kids in the villages don’t listen to my songs
How have I evolved so badly that my friend
The sun gives me headaches?
Oh capital
What more will you rip from me
What more?
(Everyone has their guilty pleasure)
Amin”
*
Women may not
Women may not
‘the blind’
The women are
the sermon
The women are
the sermon
*
I drop down next to Mike in the doorway and tell him about my childhood:
“I used to collect Horrible Histories Cards
I had a pink piggy bank with wings
Lived like a nomad in my own fleecy skin
Until one day I noticed
A letter on the davenport
I have no idea what a davenport is I assume it’s some kind of item of furniture or the name of a town in a Johnny Cash song but it reads from Alexandria:
“SabaaH el khayr, hal indaki bint kai den mporw na thn vrw thn psachnw edw twra treis meres
Bitte hilfe bitte hilfe”
“Good morning, I have a daughter and I can’t find her I’ve been searching three days now
Please help please help”
Archangel Michael folds his wing around my shoulders it feels It’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare where no matter how much testosterone I could pump into my body the hair on my legs isn’t growing and I have no idea what Istanbul smells like and he spits again onto my polished shoe now filled with my own blood and angel gob and cries:
‘You know Kori mou, agape mou, matia mou, no matter how much I wax and pluck, the hair on my legs isn’t leaving and I have no idea what love feels like’
*
Women may kiss during menstruation
Women may enter the birth
Women may not enter fear of complete loss
It is traditional for their daughters to violently and unexpectedly bleed
Amin Amin Amin Amin
