“Underpainting” and “Tenth Birthday” have been baking for years. Here they are now, at last ready for your consumption. Thanks, as always, for reading: https://cagibilit.com/safia-jama-two-poems/

I invite you to read my poem in the latest issue of Under a Warm Green Linden, an online journal with a long and lovely name that plants trees. My poem is titled “This Old House” and it was partly inspired by a certain 1980s TV show on PBS that was hosted by Bob Vila. Well, at least, that is the conceit. I don’t want to perpetuate gender stereotypes here, but based on my anecdotal experience sharing it on Twitter, I’ve noticed that this poem resonates most with dudes. Whatever your gender, thanks for reading. Click on the little button and you can hear me read the poem rather dramatically as well. -Safia

P.S. Did you know that Linden trees are edible and soothe a sore throat? I just learned that.

 

BOMB Magazine has graciously published three of my poems: “South with Wildflowers,” “Self-Portrait as an Agnes Martin Painting,” and “The Victorian Era.” As for this photo, I took it in the City of New Orleans public park a couple years ago, and this is what inspired the line: “I tend to my fallacies like this field of yellow petals.”

http://bombmagazine.org/article/4130102/three-poems

Thanks, as always, for reading.

 

 

Order me!

We walked all the way downtown,

past the church,

past the policeman’s frown,

’til we neared that cordoned-off,

hollow space, the ashes long

since blown away.

 

I read a sign that said closed for the day.

And if you wish to visit,

you’ll have to reserve

a space

to mourn your loss

and shed your tears;

a grief neglected

must be paid in arrears.

 

Now we walk around the edges

and peer

through the cracks, and hear

the low rumble

of subway tracks.

 

The protesters in Zuccotti Park

make a half-hearted cheer;

walking past the firehouse,

I shed 343 tears.

 

We stand at the memorial’s entrance,

and see the tops of a few trees.

 

I guess I had hoped

for more than these

hotel bars & blaring TV’s.

 

I know, I should have called ahead.

 

Still, I wish there was a place

to go and grieve at odd hours,

without a pass

or an appointment.

*

September 17, 2012

 

Blue whale swallowing the world.

24-hour hotline: Occasional no answer.

We show our wares and want to be well-liked.

This first-born, we place in your blue box.

Walls made of war and Happy Birthday.

Humanity, mashed up with a fork.

This video has no sound.

This sad dog will not go out for walks.

May his tears deepen the intensity of your blue frame.