"Pensive" by Thomas Gillaspy
2 poems by Parisa Thepmankorn
"Body Drought"
At night you dive into the empty river
& drag me in with you. Everyone knows
a tongue without water is tantrum.
A body without water is wildfire.
It has been months without water
& every day I wake to the heat
knocking faithful on the windowpane.
I tried to understand. I tried. I sliced lemons
in so many ways. Fat and ripe. Dirty
and deprived. Until my tongue ran a finger
across its neck. Until the moon disappeared
in that darkest hour, when I stood there in
that merciless yard, wandering from body to body
my knuckles in a small paper bag.
The rainfall had ended and still,
I searched. I opened all the eyes. I fell to my knees,
spilled flour on the frostbitten grass. And for a moment
the sky glistened. I touched you through a gate
and could not stop touching you until the water,
how terrible, wandered through each and every bone.
Listen: all that thirst wore through me, wrangled out
all my teeth just to bury them back in again. Listen:
your body will always be on top of mine.
Like metal roof collapsing on an unnamed child.
In this scenario, I am the green eyes
wide & unblinking. The bed – the Jane Doe
scratched on the headstone. And you –
you were the hard swallow.
At night you dive into the empty river
& drag me in with you. Everyone knows
a tongue without water is tantrum.
A body without water is wildfire.
It has been months without water
& every day I wake to the heat
knocking faithful on the windowpane.
I tried to understand. I tried. I sliced lemons
in so many ways. Fat and ripe. Dirty
and deprived. Until my tongue ran a finger
across its neck. Until the moon disappeared
in that darkest hour, when I stood there in
that merciless yard, wandering from body to body
my knuckles in a small paper bag.
The rainfall had ended and still,
I searched. I opened all the eyes. I fell to my knees,
spilled flour on the frostbitten grass. And for a moment
the sky glistened. I touched you through a gate
and could not stop touching you until the water,
how terrible, wandered through each and every bone.
Listen: all that thirst wore through me, wrangled out
all my teeth just to bury them back in again. Listen:
your body will always be on top of mine.
Like metal roof collapsing on an unnamed child.
In this scenario, I am the green eyes
wide & unblinking. The bed – the Jane Doe
scratched on the headstone. And you –
you were the hard swallow.
"I promise I have never known a body"
& so yes, Mom / I promise I have never kissed another person’s lips. / Doesn’t it make sense?
You told me to bite / any mouth stained red / any teeth too smart / too electric.
I know how to hold the city back / even when the boys fall over / even when a boy full
of sharp angles / pushes me up against the brick wall / and closes the gap. / I become
pulseless / my body rises / only to come crashing down / a city away from him.
Believe me / mother / I promise / I have never felt / a typhoon / grow inside of me / & certainly
have never begged for mercy / bear-trapped underneath / a man rough with muscle
who knows too well / how to aim / how to shoot. / Mom, I pinky promise. / Believe me
I would never. You trained me so well. / No matter how soft / the tongue / his fingertip
the skin on the back of his knee. / No matter / how far he sprints. / No matter
how many languages / he whispers / like fireflies / I turn away / from all these beautiful words
fluorescent / under the sheets. / I haven’t done / anything wrong. My body / has learned how to lie
/ to itself. / See / the technique is simple. / I hold my throat closed / until the feeling
slides downward / until my head rolls / until my thighs rub themselves out. / Of all people
you should understand this / bruising yourself / always means less blood / spilled.
& so yes, Mom / I promise I have never kissed another person’s lips. / Doesn’t it make sense?
You told me to bite / any mouth stained red / any teeth too smart / too electric.
I know how to hold the city back / even when the boys fall over / even when a boy full
of sharp angles / pushes me up against the brick wall / and closes the gap. / I become
pulseless / my body rises / only to come crashing down / a city away from him.
Believe me / mother / I promise / I have never felt / a typhoon / grow inside of me / & certainly
have never begged for mercy / bear-trapped underneath / a man rough with muscle
who knows too well / how to aim / how to shoot. / Mom, I pinky promise. / Believe me
I would never. You trained me so well. / No matter how soft / the tongue / his fingertip
the skin on the back of his knee. / No matter / how far he sprints. / No matter
how many languages / he whispers / like fireflies / I turn away / from all these beautiful words
fluorescent / under the sheets. / I haven’t done / anything wrong. My body / has learned how to lie
/ to itself. / See / the technique is simple. / I hold my throat closed / until the feeling
slides downward / until my head rolls / until my thighs rub themselves out. / Of all people
you should understand this / bruising yourself / always means less blood / spilled.
Parisa Thepmankorn resides in a small town in New Jersey. Her poetry has been published in Hobart, Words Dance, The Best Teen Writing of 2016, and Cicada Magazine, among others. She is currently a sophomore at Brown University and serves as a poetry reader for The Adroit Journal.
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Thomas Gillaspy is a northern California photographer. His photography has been featured in numerous magazines including the literary journals: Compose, Portland Review and Brooklyn Review. Further information and additional examples of his work are available at: http://www.thomasgillaspy.com
http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomasmichaelart/
http://www.flickr.com/photos/thomasmichaelart/
