From “For a Daughter/No Address”
Copyright © 2017 by Farid Matuk. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 6, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.
Copyright © 2017 by Farid Matuk. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 6, 2017, by the Academy of American Poets.
I know what I’m going to do next, and I know
What I’m going to trace
Stone moon,
Broken ship,
And the cloud that’s landing
If my mother was the femme in our story,
Raising me with her sister, the butch,
Then whoso frees whatever masc they want
From men is already king
But I’ll torch my energetic sadness, pouring up
To burn my country and my gender
In the mirror I’ve said, “Immigrant
my name is argument,
as small as my means”
As weakly as the moon reflecting
The gravity of stars
Trying to unearth ancient huacos—vessels
For gods
Who otherwise inhabit local boulders,
Traffic circles, the Circle K,
But I’ve been dreaming
Of killer ghosts to be dealt with
In real-time ways like
breathe in, hold,