Today's poem is by Hadara Bar-Nadav

The Ancestors Take the Reins of My Throat
       

There is always a we
          in my mouth, huddled

against my teeth. I start
          to speak and out pours

smoke with a leathered
          bit of tongue.

Numbles on a notebook
          spread out to dry.

Numbers inked onto
          the vellum skin of history.

This is a taxidermist's art,
          carve and scrape

down. Assemble grief,
          plaster, and paint,

a little paste
          for gold glass eyes.

Didn't the neighbor's cat
          stay obediently

frozen in an orange circle
          of light by the front door,

curled up there, forevered,
          a furred offering,

gutted, bent, leashed
          by love, as I am

a shell for others—
          my bit bitten, lips

peeled wide,
          the hollowed body

filled with cotton, wire,
          and the wind of ghosts.

Copyright © 2024 Hadara Bar-Nadav All rights reserved
from The Animal Is Chemical
Four Way Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission