That time I exclaimed “you’re so impolite!” when a stranger slapped my behind
by Karen Sherk Chio
a(n extended) duplex after Jericho Brown
Decades later, I still see the skirt I wore,
a green and white wrap that went down to my calves.
A clean and white whap I felt down to my calves,
the smack of his brazen palm echoed in my ear.
The smack of his brazen palm echoed in my ear.
In midday sun, the market was alive with bodies.
The midday sun, the market did not hide my body.
Standing fixed, a teacher-colleague on my left.
Standing fixed, a teacher-colleague on my left,
others a faceless gathering around us.
Others, faceless, gathered around us,
kaleidoscopic in the shade of rough-hewn tents.
Kaleidoscopic in the shade of rough-hewn tents,
the man with the hand, a vendor, rose from a stool.
The man with the hand, my offender, rose from a stool.
Can you hear how absurd my response sounded?
I now hear how absurd my response sounded,
but that, in my third language, was all I had.
Words, language: it’s all we have.
I remember laughter, a circle of averted eyes–
that laughter circling my searching eyes–
guffaws like leaves falling from a bamboo branch.
Raw leaves falling from a bamboo branch.
I stood, a bare stalk in dusty ground.
I stand, a bare stalk in dusty ground.
Decades later, I still see the skirt I wore.