By Avante Tulpule
& like windswept seagulls, swelling / into a white sky, until it
heaved / low-bellied & congested /
fell to its knees / & held up by the raucous clutter of wings,
our mothers gathered at the edges of the sea / until the
oceans were littered with their bodies /
push-pulled & thrust back to shore / holding one mouthful of
static.
this is how i imagine i am born; frothing lavender & milky
mucus; white wiped away to blood-
browned life. under the sterile moon / my mother: wet wings,
fluorescent halo.
hunger chokes out my childhood; i call the emptiness girl.
so my mother cups me in her palms / calls me blessing.
so my mother crushes her blue teeth / into powdered
grievings / & i swallow. / & i swallow until
my belly is water-logged and bursting / until water seeps out
of my ears & floods the house with
the stench of desire.
so my mother flees from water-body to water-body.
so i call this lingering home.
i drown my mother; i haul her to the frayed horizon and cast
her to shore.
earth does not accept her / i try to bury her, & she rises from
its depths / a mouthful of sea-salt.
& the ocean push-pulls her / to shore, murmurs she has
spent too long forgetting how to drown /
to surrender.
this is how i imagine a future; in which i emerge, whole /
overflowing. sea-salt lingers on my lips
& crusts over my fingernails; i choke on static / call her
daughter.
the moon, somber, a baleful eye.
i kiss women who fill me with their want / who fill my mouth
with wildflower promises / until i
know why my mother could never go back to the sea. /
water gnaws my body until i am stripped
to my girlhood / night holds me in jagged silence /
streetlights carve my body into flame.
& i am left a name, a hungering.
Click here to read our interview with Avanti Tulpule.
About the Author:
Avanti Tulpule is a high school senior. She would like to thank her family and friends for their support.