Cotyledon
I am half girl half boy
And it is ok to be ugly here
Skirts flapping where we walk
under the tallest trees with
the soil dry as an old river bed
You belch louder than the wind
and we are safe
to sit down under the palms
with our legs spread wide, belly’s
untucked with the dirty details
spilling from lips about the
men in the village
how sensitive they are,
protecting the rules they made
which we tend to destroy
Oh, if only they knew our secrets,
the things we share
how in the night
you cannot see
the small brick maze built around
and inescapable. All the corners
to get stuck between. Almost too hard
to feel through…
But, here, you can be you,
under the limbs and leaves
where the eyes that always follow
are not of concern because
they will never know of the well,
it’s shape and depth, this paradise
where you gather water and return
the yoke without any liquid spilt,
finding a way to send that
round silver ball falling backward,
propelling something back into place.
Emma B. Turner is a feminist writer, artist, and farmer who studied English at Tufts University. When not busy making things, Emma enjoys reading and walking in the woods.
