Food Bank

He strides with Wall Street
intensity
sniper confident
linearity
across to the brokers
at the corner
barreling toward
recognition
I brake
and wonder why
they never look.

Yasmeen Najmi


© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi

Foundations

For my grandfathers and all fathers. I love you!


Above the salt marshes
hinted among beech and pine
are geysers: springs of rocks
dig into the soil anywhere
and they pop up to greet you
like geologic gophers
some say the Romans
emerged from stones
and intuitively understood
the obstinance
that teaches patience to their host.

Men like my great-grandfather
Giorgio Calvi, a stonemason
who knew the value
of strength and beauty
a good foundation
metamorphic midwives
stretched short, hairy appendages
into the wombs of quarries
and earth
each newborn
proclaimed a chip off the old block
cradled by all the paisanos
that birthed and built a nation
the New York City subway
the Erie Canal
the Library of Congress
First National Bank, Las Vegas, NM.
the Fitchburg, KY. iron furnace
to supply the railroad
the Rockville railroad bridge, Marysville, PA.
and the railroad depot in Santa Rosa, CA
the Community Building in Douglass, KS.
the reservoir in Pelham, MA.
the Opera House in Cimarron, NM.
and cowboy cabins in Winnemucca, NV.
everything needed for a good life
stitched into Precambrian quilts
of coastal fog
lashed with sun's rays
and micaceous ripples
artfully layered and pressed
like a model's eyeshadow
each column and color
supporting the next
together they are powerful
foundations of our dreams
dreams that calloused and choked,
sometimes crushed
but always convinced.

I remember my grandfathers
and all immigrants
who want only the opportunity
to carve a new life
or to simply live
and accomplish this
by building the foundations
of ours.


Yasmeen Najmi

© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi

Black Girl (for Comrade Maase)

She brushes red mine dust
from sandals worn smooth
leaving veins in cracked heels
"everything here is red," she smiles
folds her fatigues
into neat samosas
with quick, slender motions
red, the color of death
ripped earth and wombs
shallow the Indravati
red, the color of endurance
a headdress of bricks
a helix of buntings
tonight she will carry
the weight of her world
two husbands
her mother's prayers
Niyamgiri's stony breasts
with an AK on her back
a flash of black eyes and steel
as she rises to dance
she shatters the Tendu leaf ceiling
offering light to stars
to the world unknown.

Yasmeen Najmi


© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi (inspired by "Walking with the Comrades" by Arundhati Roy)

Humus

This year, it’s taken awhile
to believe
wary eyes cocked
to oscillating skies
uneasy, but secretly harboring
the truth all Albuquerque folk know
about frost dates and April,
we toe tested in the shallow end
summer came like a pool bully
pushed us from behind
into the 150 proof,
gold tooth-blinding breath
of a Costco parking lot
but somehow…it doesn’t feel like summer.

Was almost convinced by
the cheat grass hiss
the coronation of mulberry-bruised lips
the Rio bumped and strained,
crept beneath to witness
the restless wicks
of velocity and tailpipes
raging Second Street
but, it still doesn't feel like summer.

Summer is a storm of branches
cracking skies
sidewalk tsunamis and stick nest hair
the vato whistles of fireflies
from raspberry thickets
and paint-weary porches
the sweaty milk of corn shucked
and grass cut.

Summers archived
with the humidity of youth
so I need a vernal story
to talk me through equatorial lines
a plow to break sutured concrete
and the false skin of old sand
resurface the fertile profiles
of solstice dreams.


Yasmeen Najmi

© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi

Blackbird

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
take these broken wings and learn to fly
I felt the terror in your eyes
when you emerged paralyzed

Blackbird dipped in oily stream
frozen feathers
plucked and gleaned
down that you just can't make clean

Blackbird fly away with me
cause we don't have much time
swirling skies are coming
and we can't hold the line

Blackbird fly away with me
to the water that don't shine
Thunder Bayou's burning
and I no longer drive.

Yasmeen Najmi

(first two lines from song "Blackbird" by the Beatles)
© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi

What We Remember

What we remember

"We the people of the United States of America
establish justice, insure domestic tranquility
promote the general welfare
and secure the Blessings of Liberty
One nation under God
indivisible
with liberty and justice for all
and all men are created equal
No State shall make or enforce any law
abridging the privileges or immunities
of citizens
whenever any government
becomes destructive of these ends
it is the right of the people
to alter or abolish it
innocent until proven guilty."

We remember our warriors
tagged and numberless
colors of Desert Storm fatigues
camouflage of spilled blood and youth
truths not self-evident
out of scope's range.

The American Dream

We remember
not to forget.


Yasmeen Najmi

© 2010 Yasmeen Najmi