Self-Portrait with Cumin, Saffron, and Star Anise
To Cumin, Saffron, and Star Anise, sisters / of the roasted goat and rice ritual, daughters / of smoke and gossip, glowing and bloodwarm
Self-Portrait with Cumin, Saffron, and Star Anise
After Safia Elhillo
squeal of a secret over telephone wires,
lipstick on the hem of a skirt, gym shorts
with the keys and the cards in the underwear drawer.
which is now a makeup drawer,
I pledge allegiance
to the flag of the superior wrist flick,
the tender tremble of an eyelash upon ink dressing,
thumb-licked and charmed against slips, dips,
or worse—a dash too blunt for the crease.
& to the smooth stroke after, I pledge
an allegiance of color: Glazed Sugar,
Cabaret, Gold Gleam. Blunt in the bathroom
to smoke up the street. Rustle of coats,
clamor of boots, hush of palms
hustling heat from wintry air.
of the roasted goat and rice ritual, daughters
of smoke and gossip, glowing and bloodwarm,
allegiant to nothing but the fan’s whirling dervish,
I pledge allegiance to the pleasure of what needs doing
after:
More in this series
Great Canadian Novel
As if a country was not an ever-tightening feeling in my chest. As if poetry was not an ever-tightening.
“the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.” —Humphrey Bogart, ‘Casablanca’
My heaven is / the cosmos is what all that space was built for.
