In the city it’s flesh that regenerates concrete and wires strung between.

Some bodies are becoming more urban now —

………..As limbs lost and replaced

………..By prosthetics mimicking highways and light switches –

Engineered in bluish-bright abstraction to fit…..perfectly

New bodies         any comfort worn is a luxury for tear of muscle and quick of nail –

………..Cry “we”   “we”   “we”

……………………………………..In an unfamiliar home.

Can decades be bunched back and darned         into centuries, into days

of gold dust, the right dust, the only dust claimed

or must they be re-worked into concrete dimmed

and rivers dammed…..with bone and wearing-cloth…..and pockets stuffed with bread:

crumbs, crumbling now and running 

generators that hum on            

and not water

…………………….It’s simpler

…………………….And less pretty

…………………….To say “cannibal”

…………………….Just “cannibal”

.

.


Noor Al-Samarrai is a Californian poet and performer with Mesopotamian roots. As a Fulbright Fellow based in Amman, Jordan she is studying the oud and working on a book about urban life in mid-20th century Baghdad through the memories of Iraqis in diaspora. Her debut poetry collection, EL CERRITO, is forthcoming in 2018 from Inside the Castle Press. She has performed as lead singer of Dog-Maw and the Plastic L.A. Skyline with Nomadic Press, the National Queer Arts Festival and the Guggenheim Museum in stillspotting:nyc. See more of her work and follow her adventures here or on instagram @milkkgirl.

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