Two Poems by kerry rawlinson

Yucca Memories

The leaves bleed

             in sticky sap.

Initials & shapes are gashed—

scraped spontaneously with sticks,

keys or pocket-knives into defenceless

phthalo green flesh, growing—

places; names; declarations & dates

pungently noted.

Inscribing papyrus is visceral:

Moses did it, along with Kilroy & any

simpleton or saint ever since,

gouging devotion into woody pulp

& tissue; etching ivory, bark & bone;

tablet, diary & i-phone to insist:

I’m not anonymous, nor ephemeral!

I exist! Here’s my mark!

But as the yucca’s active manifestos

desiccate, livid sets of letters & messy

connections are rejected

to accept another

above another; prior Chosen Ones

dry up beneath new lovers;

a fresh date replaces someone’s previous

fate, on & on; ‘til we ourselves become

the medium, and the lexicon of memory

scratched into the living layers

of our inner skin

             atrophies.

Journeys

A young boy squats atop rust-cracked dirt

waiting for the wire-strung bus,

pressed shirt spotless, blue backpack slung

with one Glad-wrapped, white-bread sandwich,

two chewed pencils, a paper-curl of ground-nuts

and his first careful notepad.

His nyina nipples a wide-eyed babe

wrapped in neon chitenge.

White lady crosses the third-world

street on western feet. They greet with

smiles that speak in the mother-tongue, cognitive

global lingo for “lovely”.

Young boy, deciding on his man-skin,

clad in worn-soled shoes, spit-shined,

grins for my Nikon; then leaps high

for the lame church van, enthused for

eager first-world teachings in the meagre school hut

thatched rough as an old man’s hat —

and I

             don’t know...

how far have we really come?

how far has he

             to go?

~~                                ~~                                ~~

nyina -             his mother

chitenge -        length of fabric that Zambian women wear, also used

                        to transport items, including babies

---

Decades ago, autodidact & bloody-minded optimist kerry rawlinson gravitated from sunny Zambian skies to solid Canadian soil, nurturing family and a career in Architectural Technology. Fast-forward: She follows Art & Literature’s Muses around the Okanagan, BC, still barefoot; her patient husband ensuring she remembers to eat. She’s won some contests, e.g. : Edinburgh International Flash Fiction2020; FishPoetryPrize 2019; and recent work appears internationally, eg. Across The Margin, Painted Bride Quarterly, Tupelo Quarterly Feathertale Review, Literary Review of Canada, Connecticut River Review, Pedestal, Riddled With Arrows, Salomé, Boned, ArcPoetry, Anti-Herion Chic, pioneertown and Minola Review; amongst others. She’s on Twitter: @kerryrawli.