I'll post poetry or short bits of writing on here from time to time, some pieces that have been heard at Tongue Lashing as well as other works that people submit. Drop me a line if you have something you want to submit or want to see something you heard at one of our readings.
This piece is one of mine; I read it at the very first Tongue Lashing back in March 2010.
VICEROY OF INDIA
He asks me my heritage. I rattle it off,
pausing on the Danish Vikings who raped and pillaged
to see his eyes become moons waxed full
and a smile break through the borders of his beautiful brown face.
"I have a Barbarian thing," he says, and lays himself out
like the coast of Normandy. I oblige,
though not exactly how he expects.
He would like me to land on his shores
plant my flag in his soil, quell his slave's rebellion,
colonize his body in chains: the sun will never set
on my empire over him. But instead
I shoulder my muskets and spread into him like an idea
not found in any of the history books
my fingers sliding in and spreading like possibilities
myriad sex that won't indenture the living
or raise the dead, though the noises he's making might
moans the shade of crushed indigo
deep and thick and hairy and ancient, like cities from past ages
sprawling with life, his cities he wanted me to destroy
and replace with my own, but he can't help but resurrect them
with this torrent of pleasured screams;
the growing pains of a new global power.
I slip out of him, nails scraping on his insides as I depart
marking territory, taking soil as souvenirs;
inside him, only a taste of me remains
to grow into a hunger, a gnawing desire
to rebuild; he will seek knowledge in strangers' hands
never again a subject, now a revolutionary;
soon his nation will conquer mine
land on my shores, colonize me, teach me songs
to hum and moan as he penetrates me
all the way back to my ancestors;
together, we will rewrite history
as the shared tonguing of our restraints.
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