V E N U S

Birth

ORIGINS
The story goes
That I was born when honeysuckles grow
That I do not claim the place of my birth as a home
That there is little difference between brown eyes and brown water
That if my mother is the ocean what do I claim as my father
A fact: I am the only grandchild of my grandmothers to have a birth absolved of water
A solution: I replace the ocean with bath water, sea salt with epsom salt dissolved in purified water and sand with rough towels that leave small abrasions in my skin. I may be absolved of water but not absolved of sin I create the ocean in places that do not allow for it to wander i sit for hours in cooling bath water
The result: I wait for something to ache To blossom to die wait for the blue light of moonlight  I toss and turn at night   i cannot recreate the place I was born in my home others tell me that my eyes are brown forlorn and how they roam   

IDENTITY
skin translucent on honey horizons
I cannot name each persona attached to my face
One is always sick
Always gone
Always forlorn
A girl that cannot remember where she was born
Only given mid August to mourn
I am only half formed

VERILY (inspired by Safia Elhillo's poem, "asmarni makes prayer")
[and verily if she's telling the truth a woman died and everything wants a home]
and verily if she's telling the truth she was born beneath a waning gibbous moon
without water without a daughter she had tall dark for a father and acidic perfume for a mother
and verily June stole the heat of her body stole it to care for magnolias in a garden that did not yet exist but verily was in California
and verily she crossed a body of water and is owed everything by the ocean a home a bloom a perpetual swaying motion
verily she was first called "brown girl" beneath the Georgia moon that hung too low in the sky and the site of endless brown girls' tombs and verily if telling the truth she'll say that peach skin made her throat itch and that she wished the summer lived on without a hitch and that her family was of brown water that who they were was never taught to her
and verily she first died in either the month of decay or the month of bloom either way a small girl with brown eyes was given back the heat of June
and verily if she's telling the truth she was moving a soul and not a body something seething something leeching something closer to a commodity and verily she moved to California where she befriended a girl but not a girl she was the moon lived somewhere closer to where black hair curled
and sea water was smooth
and verily if she was telling the truth she died again in late August a death but not one that wasn't modest she had a sheet over her face and was without a warm embrace and then it was realized that she stole her mother's eyes on the day she was born that they were dark brown and forlorn
[she grew and her rift grew.] [another home went missing]
And she left the ocean without it's permission went to another home but a home of remission a home of people that no longer exist with names not on any list of people that continue to persist but that story's too long I don't remember the words to that song there was a brown girl a soft girl a girl that was always gone but to not make this story too long : these kids I used to know we willed the desert to snow and we never let brown water flow [and you must remember that brown water was our ancestors and the difference between a place and a home] and I was taught to make music from a rose brown girl soft girl girl that's always gone how many homes have you made since nevada can you teach me the words to your rose song