“The Bark of a Tree Was Once Gentle in the Mouth”
During war, famine spoils
the tongue–burdens it with
fiery curses. Now the palate is marred.
The bark of a tree was once gentle
in the mouth. Now miswak deafens what it is
meant to clean. Teeth cannot hear
Their porcelain ears shatter
The cavern above cracked gums grows
The mind, a burning grotto for salk
“Over the Valley of the Kings”
I was bleeding over the Valley of the Kings,
drifting high in a hot air balloon with John.
His arms around the parts of me that still held on.
Below, the mist of a mired morning,
the swirl of history scattered in sand and clay
My mourning womb, as always
Determined through this latest concision
As always, holding no contrition for my blank blundering toward motherhood
Only one Pharoah below understood my loss
I heard her whisper echo from the temples
Below. Hatshepsut, a mother’s voice
Quivering through her beard from the Temple Pakhet moving me forward through this darkened
expedition
Daughter, your body is not a mortuary temple
But it will have to make room for the dead
“Lucy to Her Children Under the Awaash Sky”
Not the sky, but the journey of a constant Earth under the tutelage of collapsing stars
Not the Valley, but the constant swim along the river
Not the spine, but the journey of blood beneath the sinew, coursing, battling
Not the hunt, but the gathering
Not the bite, but the tongue, the mother’s echo, the journey toward her young
Not the body, but the heart, the journey of memories lost to time
Not the heavens, but stone, the journey of water away from bone
Not the beginning, but the middle, the hunger of the living, a journey through grist and rhyme
K Dulai works in nonprofit. She is currently an Emerging Arts Professionals Fellow in San Francisco. Her work has appeared in trampset, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, Pretty Owl Poetry, Drunk Monkeys, The Eastern Iowa Review, and other publications. She is a 2022/2023 Vona Alum. She can be found on Twitter and IG as @kjdulai
