THE WORD OF THE WEEK IS GRAVE

March 22, 2020

 

Is it coincidence?

 

It began

a graveyard.

 

We / erect / began

 

If we began in the ocean

If lightning never struck

If we were too small for fire

If our hands would not hold /

the cradle or / the string

If we had not stood

If we were not hungry

If we had not nested /

on the edge of / the risen earth

If we were not different

If we were not divided

If we had not fell /

the trees / that might / have held us

If we did not go back to the water /

in our singular skins

If we did not build walls on soft shores /

and paper/bodies—

 

Qungupet et’ut nunami.[1]

 

Today the earth shakes.

This week we suspend our games.

Nuna aulakan /

alingnartuq[2] / the spire on the city’s cathedral

reportedly snapped off.

 

Today we are reminded

how to say grave.

[1] Our graves are on the land.

[2] When the earth shakes / it is frightful.

SHE IS MAKING ROPE

 

Call it a mess.

Call it a [geological] mess.

Call it a[n historical] mess.

Call it a current

event,

Body a continent

curved

broken

stacked

under the heel of a pre-

Columbus

boot.

 

You think he was the first?

 

Birdsong to the preconditioned ear a precursor

to the kind/of curses bundled

finer than spindle/

these days—

that the woman should not know

she has been abused

until there are twins with her own eyes

and someone else’s mouth and ears.

 

There will always be wicked men and                          (flip it, if you’d like

weary women                               just-now’s not the time)

 

She wouldn’t go quietly into the earth

to fire, to dark after dark.

 

It’s not true what they say about fish

in/the sea these days

looks like a world with a lot

of dead women, these days

even the birds are at risk.

 

Who’s vindictive now? Bury the branch

we can’t have for our own.

 

In decline: sea ice, insects, bearded seals, young

whales, martens on the Oregon coast. Giraffes

 

hum to each other

through the night

no one noticed:

 

ARafkumek piliyuq.[1]

 

Different ways to say the same thing: Still

she has some uses, still/she may have some resources

still she may be ravaged,

her

and all her

pieces—                                          (you must separate the part

from the whole, twist and braid

Adria, are you lost yet? Hum.                                        the line long for casting)

this humming too

a line to bind

to follow when the shore departs.

 

When vision is impaired we/sound

the other to keep the herd

together—

her, and all her pieces.

 

[1] She is making rope.

URIITARSURCIQUA[1]

 

I was looking for a shell

f/or a house to keep

in my pockets

small enough to hold onto

but large enough to fit

my hips       (or

was it        my lips?

 

what story doesn’t fill

with holes?)

 

uriitarsurciqua,

 

curved on one side

flat on the other

like a boat

 

(in this telling even the mice

are spared—they floated

across the water and became

stuck on rocks

they became uriitat[2]—they didn’t

drown, though children

these days

eat them raw)

 

I wanted it to be blue

for my mother I suppose

(the house)

I wanted my mother

to approve

 

but each one I found already

was living and

I dropped each piece

that moved.

 

When we were children

we had four hermit crabs and my sister

killed two.

 

She threw them against the brick

fireplace when they moved.

 

After that we didn’t pick them up.

After that we didn’t hold them.

We stopped feeding the two that remained.

 

We expected our parents to fix them.

We expected our parents to protect

their investment.

We expected our parents to remove the bodies

while we slept.

 

We didn’t know how to fashion our small ribs

into boats.

 

[1] I am going to get some bidarkies.

[2] chiton, otherwise bidarkies, otherwise the shape of a traditional skin boat.

ARNAT QUTMI KATURTUT

 

Qawallria alqaqa.

Qawallria maamaqa.

Imaq qawallria.

 

Ilangartuten, ilangartuten—

 

Kuigmi agtutut/

Ap’sgu

Cestun lla et’a?

Pinartuq-qaa?

 

Llaatsurtaalliit—

 

Qitenguq.

Qitengkutaruq.

Imasuugukut

imamek

 

Tumanaq martuq:

sapuraangukut

 

Macamek tang’rpakartaan’itukut.

Maaninguall’raq tang’rpakartaan’itukut

macamek.

 

Illianga

qitemi

uyaqurtulikun ikegtaartut

tang’rmuq

 

Aturyugllianga/

Aturyugua—

 

Isiit awa’i angitut/

lingalasinaq

[ikirngaut]

 

Iqsaka narya’aliyaqa

aturkutartua—

 

taisgu arnat guamnun (englupet),

 

*

 

Uswilraraat qawarn’itut nuutan

Taugna ikani/

imasuugukut

 

Ipigpet awa tukniya’utut

Kuigmen agllriakut:

Akarngasqangcugmek pilirluku (    )

 

Et’ua qutmi,

Alqaqa imami et’uq

Maamaqa imami et’uq

 

Kayunguq

cali qayaq miktuk

kesiin qangyut

angtaartut—

 

Arnat qawarn’itut.

Arnat qutmi et’ut.

Iqsaka narya’aliyaqa

 

*

 

Paniyaqa qiacin’ituq.

Carliaqa llangllarngauq.

ARafkumek piliyuq

katurkut

 

Paniyaqa aturkutartuq.

ARafkumek piliyuq.

Aturciqukut—

 

Kelugkanek aturtaartukut mingqu’akamta:

 

Taangaq et’uuq

Carwaq tukniuq

 

(Suuget ilait niu’uqurtaarait Nanwam suugi ell’uni)

 

Quliyangua’uciikamken

[imami]

aturciqukut.

THE WOMEN ARE GATHERING AT THE BEACH

 

My sister was sleeping.

My mother was sleeping.

The water was sleeping.

 

Wake, repeat—

 

Begin [at] the river/

Ask

How is it outside?

Is it fair? (Is it nice?)

 

They say we used to know

which way the wind would blow—

 

It is raining.

It will rain.

We are searching for our contents

for that we will contain

 

The fog is thick: tie a feather

to the prow

 

Now we do not see the sun.

Here (pitifully) we do not see

the sun.

 

I [am one /who] was born

in the rain

not many loons

to see through

 

I used to want to sing/

I want to sing—

 

The owls have returned/

their knowing eyes

[open]

 

Put bait on my hook

where the birds gather

I will sing—

 

bring the women home,

 

*

 

The children are not sleeping now

Those ones there out of reach/

[we] are looking for the sea

 

Our arms now are getting weak

We went to the river:

mark a dot to follow/

see

 

I am on the beach,

My sister is in the water

My mother is in the water

 

It is stormy

and the kayak is small

but the wave

will be great—

 

The women are not sleeping.

The women are at the beach.

I am putting bait on my hook/

[where we gather]

 

*

 

My daughter will not cry.

My daughter will not sleep.

She is making rope

[where] we gather

 

My daughter will sing soon.

She is making rope.

We will sing—

 

Thread the needle:

 

The water is deep

The current is strong

 

(If I were not afraid I’d be/a fish)

 

I will tell you a story

[in the water]

we will sing.