MAVKA #34: SHE, THE UNDERWORLD, AND WELCOME
by Padma Thornlyre
My nostrils sharpened by sulphur,
bubbling mud whence his groan
arises, and for once to answer him
I leave behind your laughter,
all that light and all the human
ecstasies, the doves that shoulder you
when the sea-need comes
coursing through your ankles.
I kiss and pray to your cloven sex,
its several spices—clove and jasmine,
some vanilla, but behind them all
pomegranate, the pregnant tide, and
semen just as old and just as salty.
Gladly, I'd have drowned in you,
I am born for such possessions.
He who calls me is bearded
in his mud stew and I fear
those muscles, his wet dream,
the short work he might make of me
should he call me out of hunger.
I recoil from his stench.
I cast your salt upon the bubbles
but this is not enough for him.
It is not your salt he wishes,
but something from me—
something I am. My sore feet?
He may have them. My failing knees,
he may have those, too. But he
throttles me. It is my throat he wants.
He tears my voice from me.
I am filthy and of no consequence.
Find the green girl who's woven a bracelet
of her own dark hair for you.
Padma Thornlyre is a single father of a 10-year-old daughter. They live with their two cats in a Habitat for Humanity home in the canyon town of Kittredge, Colorado. Padma is formerly the editor and publisher of the overly ambitious literary/arts magazine, "Mad Blood," and now edits and publishes a much humbler project, "NK." Educated at Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, nearly 300 of Thornlyre's poems have appeared individually in literary magazines. His latest book, Eating Totem: The Mossbeard Poems, was published in 2008 by Turkey Buzzard Press.