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Youna Fradin - Dear Vievee Francis

from Feminine Waste x No​(​w​)​here Collective Comp by Feminine Waste

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lyrics

Sometimes when I read lyrical words my mouth
waters and it is fitting that my smile is bowl-shaped.
How loquacious makes pursed lips and full cheeks, while
lip is a dip from my tongue to the corner of my teeth.

How proximity to another’s uvular awakenings makes
them audible in the murmur of morning until I find
myself listening for proof of short distance, nearness,
but it is beginning to sound like quiet, closed hibiscus.

In other words:

There is a hibiscus in the garden that resembles a mouth
though it sheds its skin, more serpentine than lip.
The rounded curve glints like scales although bruised
like wrapping paper folded over a red center.

With wind, the hibiscus sheds into paper scale trails
(that sounds nice too doesn’t it?)
across the ground. I find them scattered and curling
like sunbathing snakes or fingers on a chilled hand.

Gathering them in my palms, I wish I could show you
how difficult it is to pinch loss in between your fingers
without tearing. To hold sound and skin and keep it whole,
no shattered color or faded texture. No child of barbed tongues.

There is a climate on the other edge of the world where
a father cultivates fruit and hibiscus. Consuming, devouring,
ingesting… a seed swallowed and planted in his stomach.
His breath is a coiling saccharine, the tip of a sugar spire.

Vievee, you have wrapped yourself in your own skin and lapped
nectar, becoming a row of teeth to fertilize gardens. The tongue
tucked in the soil laps like a river in which you bathe your aching
feet. A tintinnabulation of unfurled petals, open hibiscus.

In other words:

In your poem, you wrote about how delicious it is to say your husband’s name and hear him say yours. But I wonder if you can tell me… how do I know when it is safe enough to step closer, unfold my wrapping paper ears, and listen?

credits

from Feminine Waste x No​(​w​)​here Collective Comp, released March 24, 2021

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