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Nursing the Unknown Words by Emma Louise Backe Image by Neely Johnson QuailBellMagazine.com The Tattooed Woman is seated for eternity in a loosely fetal posture, her head tilted to the right. Locks of her long black hair curl about her cheek and past her mouth, below which is a small, tattooed oval with a dot inside - a mystery. We know she is from Chile, where before 1550 A.D. her burial posture was typical. In the desert air, her body naturally dried and mummified. The fabric that once tightly wrapped her has left impressions on her chin and cheeks. –ChristopherYasiejko, “Fellow Travelers” i let my hair hang loose and catch the words of those around me. they finger the buttons of bone along their chests and purse their lips. they can breathe as hard as they want-- their solemnity does not invite the spirits. it’s the branches they rustle in their wake, haphazardly clinging about the fire to see whether the stars will dance the same next nightfall. i have known the dance of needles upon my breast, just as my pelvis scarred upward when my child came from me full of teeth yet unmoving. they cut off his hands so he could not have a grip upon this world that makes for touching us. came to me with ink to dig deep-- those curses of pain only in the language of unseen torment, loud and without voice. they left small circles above my nipples, hard and black pinpricks at the center. they did not explain why. perhaps it was not for them to articulate deep impulse—an elephant dead with only its face gutted by predators. with these new tattoos i take the spirits to my chest and let them suckle, gasping a little. even in death my head will incline, inviting my ancestors to taste my flesh when the sun has flattened it beneath me withered, leathery dugs men will trace with scalpels, licking their lips despite themselves. #Unreal #Poetry #Photography #Ekphrastic #Imagery #Death #Anthropology Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. Comments
Steve Vermillion
3/10/2015 03:24:21 pm
Such a lush, alarming poem. The words, the thorny images, like glistening incisors. Thank you. Comments are closed.
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