Two Poems: Cigna and Ruth

Cigna

you gotta throw some cocoa butter between
them toes
protect the liver
drink some water as if what’s coming out my faucet a’int what
got my guts in a bind
twisted and turning over itself
like my fingers tryna find recipes in the bible
for keeping the scent of ocean water
out my hair so they can’t find me
but my body
something in the spleen, the tendons and joints
that keep my muscles hugged up with the rest of my insides
muscles that a’int caused me nothing but trouble
when my thighs too ancestral
you can map swamp land to floor boards
to crawl space and Georgia again
in the cellulite
stretchmarks and fat,
fat,
fat
who said fat and black
but white and invasive
surgical instruments
to remove the fat, the genitals
the foot
who said Black body first
only reason Black body is academic
because they still want to
cut into us to find what they can not
no Silk Road
no conquistador
no cop city
no plank
no hull
no body but our body
so epsom salt on Thursdays
and pray on your knees every morning
to give those feet a break
open sores
open caskets
56 plots for 56 years
26 years left
i am 30 now and niggas
only die young because maroon meat don’t taste the same
it’s too tough to chew
too defiant
they say let it rot in the sun
but we return home to it
give my lungs back to the river basin
so I can sing with whoever kept they body
long enough so my brain can be imagined
Black body
my body
body Dysmorphia
body Dysphoria
blood Pressure
high
hypertension
fibrosis
cholesterol
Black
infant
ribs
spine
maternal
mortality
fingernails
Black
crohn’s
Black body
Black body
Black sick
calves
intestines
and I hope I keep you long enough
to taste salt water again

 

 

Ruth

for Auntie Ruth and the others

 

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go

New York bound from the sleepy, Carolina magnolia’s that spare petals like angel wings when you need to make a decision

where to land

by and by

Ruth

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go

Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a puddle that hoards your reflection

Somewhere in Manhattan, there is a sidewalk that covers your shadow

and can’t none of us say the same

Ruth

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, girl where did you go

and why were you there

and who did you know

and on the phone, somebody told ma ma that poor Ruth had died

but nobody told ma ma where poor Ruth was buried

and who buried her

and who and what and where and when and how and who and what and where and when and how and who and what and where and when and

Ruth

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, there are no pictures of your laughter

There are no sonnets of your birth

There are no death records of your favorite song

and did you have one or was it taken too,

was it buried with you or can someone still remember your jitterbug and how your belly slithered when you found your sexy in a bar somewhere in Harlem that isn’t there but might have been or was never there but gives me hope that you might have been

and the questions about the questions about missing Black girls

in the black hole that look like an oceans trench from the mountain top

Ruth

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, where did you go

Born in Honea Path, South Carolina

but where she died, nobody knows

Ruth

Baby Ruth

Sweet Ruth, where did go

Somebody tell me how you can be born

but your name dissolve like footprints beneath the snow

 

 



Click here to read Donnie Moreland on the origin of the poems.

Image by Steve Johnson on pexels.com, licensed under CC 2.0.

Donnie Moreland:

“Cigna” is an attempt to write a love letter to my body. The poem is about living in my body, the origins of my body and to whom my body is owed. As a cis-gendered heteronormative Black man managing various comorbidities, I recognize the privileges and pain pushing and pulling, wrestling and ultimately reconciling shared space in my body — along with its definitions. Unfortunately, colonization often propagandizes the meanings of Black masculine bodies, thus eroding autonomy in storytelling. However, my queer, trans and non-binary brothers have long since engaged in this narrative conflict to create pathways for reclamation of which this poem honors in its intention.

“Ruth” is about my great-aunt Janie Ruth Williams who passed away around the mid twentieth century, though there is no official death record, or familial knowledge of a burial. Simply put, my aunt should have been considered (as I consider her) a missing person. The details of her life, and assumed passing, are speculation at best. Though tragic, I wrote this poem to honor her life, and to evoke a living memory of her which she deserves just by being born. There are no pictures of Ruth’s face, but the person the reader imagines while reading the poem will operate to give power to her name.

Donnie Moreland
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