Academic journal article Women's Studies Quarterly

Nomadic Tutelage

Academic journal article Women's Studies Quarterly

Nomadic Tutelage

Article excerpt

For Audre Lorde

You strike your head against a door

and pluck it back again.

Ancient gesture, ineluctable,

bone bruising wood

and the lyric rears itself,

a silken hood.

Gamba Adisa

you have come to say to me

Afraid is a country

with no exit visas.

You taught me to fetch

old meal for fire,

sift through an ash heap.

pick out syllables

molten green,

butting sentences askew.

I try to recall

the color of your face.

Was it lighter than mine?

Or was it the color of the East River

when the sun drops into soil

melting obsidian

and I a child by the wellside

pack my mouth with stones.

Darkness crowns the waters.

The raw resurrection of flesh unsettles sight.

I hear you and I am older

than moonlight swallows swim through.

Gries of hawks mark out

four points of the compass. …

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