AMERICAN THEATRE | in your hands, american theatres

small   drops                 of sounds                        of a country

carry them overseas 

squeeze into pockets the vowel-cradle in throat and palate tongue-tip to consonants, 

whole-body laughter for language, fingerprint-friction-graze with guitar, vendor voices crack-opening

wind, hands shocking knife into coconut—carry even that ten-barrel-tense under-the-breath get down

don’t ask                      why

 

why carry centuries and mountains of pain without cure? hold tight to SAUDADE echoing in the

engine, to every cellular storyline among all twenty thousand plant species of the mata atlântica, to green

hope of beginning never ending in beaded necklaces protecting your throat—bem meu bem—mas why

instead listen when the shudder-through of plane landing on flat land

flat-lands you to other, to invasive species, why            would you                  cover 

                                                                                            

the body of your nation with colorless clothing                    the depths of your sound

be too loud for an america that doesn’t know itself               embarrassed you know 

your self—even below the gaze of sad gray-clad man asking why you tremble—you know 

the art in your veins goes back and back but                         aristotle isn’t your daddy

 

you grow accustomed to america untangling your hair by sheer force, you realize

sometimes, you do desire to belong to jagged edges, you know? melting to quick-witted flashes of

expression, to centralized power, becoming three-act realism too linear, established, harsh 

                                                                                              to dare be stepped upon

 

each day, you negotiate. there is migration of land, then there is migration of soul. you test how far

over sea the umbilical cord can stretch, how much dissonance chords can take.     one can take 

many things at borders, in presses, from classrooms, from homes 

mangoes, words, worlds liable to disappear                           your pockets stay intact 

they can’t censor spirit.                           raw-red new nation strives to make sense of you, monstrous you—

microscope you—well past customs—you become experiment

they shine light into your america-watered eyes

to catch the un-american activities

 

but migration is not a metaphor

fear and violence are not romantic

a country doesn’t get an editor

so it’s hard to wake and make art frantic

 

to keep from getting regurgitated

foreign body in body of giant

nothing about us without us grumbles in the belly of a society

until your living and language become liability and impropriety—

 

but multitude isn’t either, lady liberty whispers in ear. you and she, star-crossed

romeo and juliet, long long to lock hands, share many-languaged laughters with wind.

 

it is a privilege to pocket love               you feel for those      who do not know                 they do not know

a people is never lone         incidental puddle in history           each drop of love         runs deep as sea          

 

all is heavy, and still you are a good pocketer. artist, de necessidade. believe you are

as tranquila as you were when you were five

floating on the vowels, wrapping your mother’s hair around two tiny fingers,

convinced you could plant and preserve and prove the worth of a world of your family’s safe scent 

                                                                                           in the creviced map of your tiny hand

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