SILK CLUB PRESENTS “QUIET!” APRIL 2019
SILK CLUB PRESENTS “QUIET!” APRIL 2019
TOGE
THER
AS ONE
Between Beirut and Bangkok, I found your tanned skin, your midnight eyes, your natural hair, curled, curled; your pin straight hair, turn up the volume. When I blink, I see absence, I see you, dark depths of ocean swells—I get lost in the tangles of your seaweed hair, yet you are scarce even in your deepest parts. Scarce in chlorinated pool eyes, in porcelain skin—where is your dirt? Your sand? Brown, earthy life? Buried between Beirut and Bangkok. Swept away by: you don’t look so good when you’re tan, you’re not like Them; but keep a strong hold. A strong hold on the elegant riptide of mountain swells, thousands of years of history deep, Renaissance of Science and Music and Art and dirt, brown, rich and raw life. You confused life for tangles, ashamed of vivacity. Even in oceans deep, we’ve lost you to chlorine and sterility, to cloudy homes that are not yours, as much as understanding is not theirs. Dirt pales to your midnight grace; do not be scarce.
ODE TO OBSIDIAN