The Day Before Visiting the Great Wall I Write A Poem
Michael is a proud New Yorker
who’s never been to the Statue of Liberty,
smug almost, which I don’t understand,
because just a month ago,
I visited the town of Beidaihe
on the coast of the Bohai Sea
& I met a Chinese man
wearing a smart grey sweater
who’d been to the Grand Canyon
& even though I’ve driven by, seen it
at a distance, I felt sick
when he told me how the air is cooler
on the skin down among the red rocks.
Shouldn’t we know what makes us?
American? Or anything.
What does one bring for lunch
on the Great Wall? If I could,
I’d eat the dirt at the base
of the stones, to taste what --
I don’t know-- history,
or the bones of men
who lived hundreds of years before
I learned to feel shame.
Humans don’t just build walls,
we build the story of who we are
& who we we aren’t
into the very foundation.
who’s never been to the Statue of Liberty,
smug almost, which I don’t understand,
because just a month ago,
I visited the town of Beidaihe
on the coast of the Bohai Sea
& I met a Chinese man
wearing a smart grey sweater
who’d been to the Grand Canyon
& even though I’ve driven by, seen it
at a distance, I felt sick
when he told me how the air is cooler
on the skin down among the red rocks.
Shouldn’t we know what makes us?
American? Or anything.
What does one bring for lunch
on the Great Wall? If I could,
I’d eat the dirt at the base
of the stones, to taste what --
I don’t know-- history,
or the bones of men
who lived hundreds of years before
I learned to feel shame.
Humans don’t just build walls,
we build the story of who we are
& who we we aren’t
into the very foundation.
Interlude: Adam Not in Black or White
The last morning creased the sides
of his face as he leaned in
to kiss me goodbye.
I am not sorry
for what no one can hear
me think about his mouth.
of his face as he leaned in
to kiss me goodbye.
I am not sorry
for what no one can hear
me think about his mouth.
Ritual
What new is there to say
about a woman's skin, the rose petal, the silk?
After sex, I don't have a smoker’s ritual
unless waiting for you to come inside is a ritual.
While you’re outside I'm finding
whose socks went where, pining,
looking for chapstick, mumbling to dust bunnies.
But about skin, it surprises me
how yours, when uncovered from sawdust, sharp
fiberglass, and sweat, is every way
lovelier than mine pampered
by lotion's everyday ritual.
about a woman's skin, the rose petal, the silk?
After sex, I don't have a smoker’s ritual
unless waiting for you to come inside is a ritual.
While you’re outside I'm finding
whose socks went where, pining,
looking for chapstick, mumbling to dust bunnies.
But about skin, it surprises me
how yours, when uncovered from sawdust, sharp
fiberglass, and sweat, is every way
lovelier than mine pampered
by lotion's everyday ritual.
Walter Kelly
Eyes like fish bowls in an Easter Island head.
Big bough biceps carry a single book down a hallway.
I watch you pressing your paper plate palms together under the table.
Your chest is wide and flat like the land before God thought
of mountains. Once I almost asked you to let me
walk the long planks of your thighs,
but didn’t know what I was jumping into.
Do you see how perfect your feet are
for planting gardens under?
I believe we can grow out of our bodies. One day we will,
I promise you, Walter.
Big bough biceps carry a single book down a hallway.
I watch you pressing your paper plate palms together under the table.
Your chest is wide and flat like the land before God thought
of mountains. Once I almost asked you to let me
walk the long planks of your thighs,
but didn’t know what I was jumping into.
Do you see how perfect your feet are
for planting gardens under?
I believe we can grow out of our bodies. One day we will,
I promise you, Walter.
Monet Patrice Thomas is a writer currently living in Beijing China. She has an MFA in poetry from the Inland Northwest Center for Writers at Eastern Washington University in Spokane, Washington. More of her poems can be found online at Word Riot and Cosmonauts Avenue. Her fiction and nonfiction can be found at such places as Third Point Press, Hobart, Whiskeypaper, and Sundog Lit. Follow her on Twitter at @monetwithlove or visit her website: monetpatricethomas.com
