Wednesday, April 25, 2012

With All Due Respect to Beyonce - 25/30

I woke up today writing this poem. Anyone else know that feeling? You wake up with a line in your head. It's great, right? Rarely happens to me, but when it does (and it's an actually worthwhile thought) it is a good sign.

So today's poem is a response to something I think I overheard on the news while I was somewhere between sleeping and waking up (that gray space some may call Snoregatory). It is called... 

With All Due Respect to Beyonce 

People Magazine,
I saw your misnomer plastered over
a TV screen like an atlas:
World's Most Beautiful Woman.

I don’t write, though, to interject between singer
and her celebrity,
but just to marvel at the minuscule scale
of the world you live in,

because this very day,
there are women who have never been photographed
wearing the dust of their
atomized children like foundation, refusing

to forget them despite how much it may hurt to remember.
There are women
who waive their right to healthcare the moment another
life returns their stare.

There are women
beneath canopies of thick, Edenic green
living with the shameless
beauty of antecedent Adam and Eve,

cocoa-rich skin smoother than the fabrications
touted out of Estee Lauder,
Shiseido and Clinique; skin that still recalls
God’s touch sculpting humanity.

People Magazine,
between stateside drywall and African tenements,
between Iraqi abodes and
apartments in Japan, housing businesswomen,

proud and unbowed, proving beauty like two fingers
pointing it out on a map made
of mirror - the world you claim is far too small,
a TV adrift and denying the ocean.

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