Ways I Have Been Born

 

I. Pulled from the pistil of a black iris,

stem jerked from root and river,

feet folded backwards. My momma

took what the water gave her and I cried 

cause I was sorry that was me. 

 

II. Somewhere in Tennessee,

Loretta sang, all while looking me in the eye: 

I ain't gonna wash no windows. I ain't 

gonna scrub no floors.

I walked myself home,

stomping my boots along 

to the tune of her song. I kicked 

in the screen door. I told 

everyone it kicked back.  

 

III. Down in the dirt I watched

the trees gesture 

with each limb, listened

to the animals let loose

in call and response and I suck

in, push out, and wail like them:

mother-eye, mother-eye 

let me in.