{"id":4852,"date":"2024-12-01T17:56:45","date_gmt":"2024-12-01T21:56:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/?page_id=4852"},"modified":"2024-12-01T17:56:46","modified_gmt":"2024-12-01T21:56:46","slug":"2024-funny-that-you-say-if-i-ever-go-missing","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/poetry-archive\/2024-funny-that-you-say-if-i-ever-go-missing\/","title":{"rendered":"2024 FUNNY THAT YOU SAY IF I EVER GO MISSING"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"

Blue Doorway – Delhi, Tracy\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/div>\n

<\/h1>\n

\u00a0 FUNNY THAT YOU SAY IF I EVER GO MISSING \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 you will look for me, listen to the oiled crunch\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

of embittered stars to track my whereabouts,\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0won\u2019t unhook my clothesline by the ixorabush\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

blackened by monsoon\u2019s noonday thumbing,\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0won\u2019t sleep on the side of the bed from where\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I watch the shallow shadows of trees snuggle\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 and will perversely monogram my initials\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

onto the hot strength of sand under the red river<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 till the breaking arteries of time is a pinch\u2014\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

was it one of those evenly crouched nights,<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0ones with no stomach for yearnings and rain<\/span><\/p>\n

ones cured of the orderly films of nightlight\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0when we heard the snuffles of our grandmothers<\/span><\/p>\n

scorching our woods yet their steps like mynas\u2019\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0on buffalo back, looking for our grandfathers<\/span>1<\/span>\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

it wasn\u2019t the bobrenga but their rattling breaths\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0through the kanchans in the white-eye kopje<\/span><\/p>\n

that crept and cracked and cut against our door<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0and when we listened for their grief, their voices\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

were denials, clear sobs but mostly love songs<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 for men who at the crack of dawn rode gaurs,<\/span><\/p>\n

ate singed mulberries, nattered with gibbons\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 and died young in each other\u2019s sprig-like arms,<\/span><\/p>\n

they now tug spring in their new moon feathers\u2014\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0a night sky hollowed by the arithmetic of history,\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

still we draped it like a koum kontong to sleep<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0and, as cobwebs against winds, its binds relaxed\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I half-heard you say: <\/span>I too will look for you.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

1<\/span> this portion refers to the Farkranti dance performed by the Rabha community in Northeastern India to mourn the passing of people; <\/span>bobrenga<\/span><\/i>: a musical instrument used by the said Tibeto-Burmese ethnic group\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Sarmah<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Abhijit Sarmah is a poet and researcher of Indigenous Literatures from the northeastern Indian state of Assam. Currently, he is pursuing his PhD at the University of Georgia, Athens GA where he is an Arts Lab Graduate Fellow and a Ruth Pack Scholar. His work has been published or forthcoming in a range of print and online journals, including <\/span>Callaloo Journal<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>Poetry Magazine<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>The Margins<\/span><\/i>, <\/span>Lunch Ticket<\/span><\/i>, and <\/span>The Lincoln Review<\/span><\/i>.\u00a0 Sarmah was a finalist for the Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Poetry Fellowships for two consecutive years (2023 and 2024) and has received nominations for the Best of the Net and The Pushcart Prize.<\/span><\/p>\n

John Tracy is a self-taught photographer who worked as a photojournalist for the New York Daily News for seven years before becoming an attorney. He has recently been published in F-Stop Magazine, Birmingham Arts Journal and Dipity. His work can be viewed at <\/span>www.jtracy.com<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u00a0 FUNNY THAT YOU SAY IF I EVER GO MISSING \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 you will look for me, listen to the oiled crunch\u00a0 of embittered Continue Reading →<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7305,"featured_media":0,"parent":1261,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4852"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/7305"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4852"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4852\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5376,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/4852\/revisions\/5376"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1261"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.ubalt.edu\/welter\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4852"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}