- Oil and Myrrh
I
There is no simplicityin the motives of another man
How she’d never hear the sound of her own humming
Could not contemplate the slicesof an orange, of rind & flesh
Understand earththrough the soles of her feet
There would be musicmade only from machinesthe monotone piercingan electronic originationnot from the hands of humansor the skins of animals
And the touch of wires and tubeswould impress themselves deeperthan the touch of fingerssave one thumbslick with oil and myrrhIn the name of the Father … [End Page 72]
II
We tell ourselves differentlybut there are only two worlds
One inhabited by the hubris of menthe other of spirit and ancestorof those who find their wisdom beyond a grave
III
She could not take the same breath we taketo recreate creation in the simple wind of her chest
Men make machinesso they can live onbut life is something altogether diferent
To taste on the tongueis a gatewaya communionan unearthly understanding
A rhythm steadied for a songthat tells the worldthe sun sets in the east [End Page 73]
Matthew Shenoda is the author of the poetry collections Somewhere Else, winner of the American Book Award, Seasons of Lotus, Seasons of Bone, and Tahrir Suite, winner of the Arab American Book Award, and he is a founding editor of the African Poetry Book Fund. He is currently Associate Professor in the Department of Creative Writing at Columbia College Chicago. Visit www.matthewshenoda.com.