I’d love to share a new poem by my sister Aubrey, whose command of the english language is breathtaking.
-Grayson
Song of Salome
I.
I have tattooed my body and danced for destruction
dark-eyed and barefoot before the king
and from wild fingertips I let fall
a trail of seven veils, strewn like soldiers at my heels,
while my hips wove a poison
into the palace shadows
(I am a wretched thing)
and at last, that royal tongue,
whetted and dipped in delirium,
licked royal lips and promised
sacred heads on silver plates.
II.
I have kissed the freckled faces of my children,
stirred their slumber on my lips
and promised lemon summers
that billow through open windows,
bedtime stories and prolific crickets,
cider-ripened autumns
spiced with caramel and wood smoke,
then plucked loyalty from the eaves of my home
and sewn it into the pocket of my apron
(alongside an acorn and a thimble).
III.
I have carried the water you drink
in a vase atop my head
(an infant slung against my back)
singing paradise into the jungle
with my sisters and their skirts
and the jangling anklets that jumped
as we walked the path
all the way home
where you and your brothers worked.
IV.
I have spilt my blood like rosary beads
on the altar of your god
draped in amethyst robes and tied
tenderly to stone
(a chain of finest gold snaking round my wrist)
had my mother wished for a son?
And the crops grew tall.
V.
I have betrayed the one who loved me
and absconded in the night
wreaked a handsome havoc
with a lovely, untamed song;
I have dragged his ships asunder
to the bed of the abyss
so he may know
(and may he never forget)
that the fear in his heart is female
and she and I are one.
VI.
I have been defiled by heathen blades
and pinned by aching, armored brutes
on the temple steps
on the forest floor
in the crooked, cobbled alley
my deathsong a lullaby of bloody breath
crooned in fetid grunts
and many times over,
I have been thoughtlessly slain.
VII.
I have cradled the world in my navel
lifted the poets from their knees
bled with the moon by the Nile
endured the virile beast
shaken my fists in fury
bound my breasts for war
wept in the pain of my brother
wasted away on the moors;
I have slept in the arms of my mother
taught the children to pray
dripped with vital nectar
married for duty’s crusade
wailed at the fall of Damascus
laced blossoms in my hair
devoted my heart to fidelity
succumbed to jealous despair;
I have washed my hands of men
and ringed my finger with ink
raised my eyes to Zion
declared my freedom to think
martyred the damned scholar
enlisted myself thereof
written the paean of women
and sung for the valor to love.
AUBREY SANDERS
