March 14, 2018

Natalie Solmer

WHAT DID MY BABY DADDY AND I DO TO EACH OTHER IN PAST LIVES?

a week after conception        I felt the sphere of cells
gnaw a notch        into the dead center of me
my baby daddy laughed        and sang
circled his arms around me        to show

gnaw a notch        into the dead center of me
how big        my belly would get
circled his arms around me        to show
he was right        he was happy as we rode in the gold car

how big        my belly would get
our baby kicked        with each boom of bass
he was right        he was happy as we rode in the gold car
I used to laugh at his songs        until I was living it

our baby kicked        with each boom of bass
real man a gallis        so many gyals        so much pum-pum
I used to laugh at his songs        until I was living it
the joke’s on you        god says        when I get to him in sleep

real man a gallis        so many gyals        so much pum-pum
I could pretend        to condense him to a raindrop
the joke’s on you        god says        when I get to him in sleep
I’m still knotted        bedded down by need

I could pretend        to condense him to a raindrop
yet I don’t want to worship        a husband-god
I’m still knotted        bedded down by need
I painted my walls        moon-color

yet I don’t want to worship        a husband-god
my baby daddy laughed        and sang
I painted my walls        moon-color
at my altar needing        pails of water to anoint me

from Rattle #58, Winter 2017

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Natalie Solmer: I often make dumb decisions in this lifetime, and despite those ‘mistakes’ which cause me to transform—hopefully—into something better and brighter, I do not know if I could make it through any of this without reading and writing poems. Poetry provides (or perhaps the poet forces) access to a transformative space: revealing hidden layers and meaning to life, imbuing sorrow with magic, at least temporarily. (web)

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