Today I am elbow deep
in some animal’s belly
pulling out the heart and stomach
for my mother’s table
brown rubber soles blood slicked
the swing of twin blades
cuts a whole village worth of pelts,
coon, carved bones for ladies
jewelry and coats. These hands
can ground down rock and gold
call a man sweet dusty, mold
knots of spit and hair like clay
until a baby’s head is perfectly round.
These hands are good for killing—
I feel this knowing rising
like different names for fire.
Every bone has a ghost–
the smallest, a stirrup in the ear
whispers walk carefully there
you come from a dark tribe.
Image Credits: Public Domain
Cynthia Manick
Cynthia Manick is the author of Blue Hallelujahs (Black Lawrence Press,
2016). A Pushcart Prize nominated poet with a MFA in Creative Writing
from the New School; she has received fellowships from Cave Canem,
the Callaloo Creative Writing Workshop, Hedgebrook, Poets House,
and the Vermont Studio Center. She serves as East Coast Editor of Jamii
Publishing and is Founder of the reading series Soul Sister Revue. Her
work has appeared in the Academy of American Poets' Poem-A-Day
Series, African American Review, Bone Bouquet, Callaloo, Kweli Journal,
Muzzle Magazine, Sou’wester, Pedestal Magazine, Tidal Basin, Wall Street Journal, and elsewhere. She currently resides in Brooklyn, New York.
