GHAZAL FOR FAMILIAR WOMEN
In the way we can spot kinfolk from the back
by their gait, these women unknown to me, backs
facing me, feel related. More than the long sleeves
and bucket hats, it’s the eroded downstroke of their backs
that’s vernacular, it’s what they do not do, even while
their eyes are watching God disrobe and back
away. They hold out their veins, unblinking, while black
bags are hung from their necks like ropes. Back-
aches persist but do not fracture their language in this way.
Comfort is a drained infusion pump, three days a foe. Back
at home, as night falls, a husband holds his wife’s hand.
His daughters will rub their mother’s unrobed back
and cover it after her body’s churning. Her
requested balm: atonal invocations back to back.
Will you embody your name, Dominique? See your mother
plunge into the cold ocean, then turn to float on her back.
ABOUT THE POET
Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming from RHINO, Fugue, The Ocean
State Review, and The Southern Review. She co-edits the newly-revived Shō
Poetry Journal. More: dominiqueahkong.com
ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW
We loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), and we want an
opportunity to better hear our contributors. We're featuring audio recordings of
poems from our pages, read by the poet. This an open invitation to all contributors
from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to
hear it.
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