Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach: To the Women of Trabzon
for Siamanto
The earth remembers them
the way a body does a wound.
The Black Sea swelling out
the way a body does a wound.
The Black Sea swelling out
dark hair and fabric worn to rope:
a barbed chain of mothers, wires,
a great aunt, the girl
a barbed chain of mothers, wires,
a great aunt, the girl
whose dress was torn in places
water didn’t choose. Seagulls
searched for fish there,
water didn’t choose. Seagulls
searched for fish there,
pecking at something still
straining: scales lodged between
a child’s shoulder blades. No mourners –
straining: scales lodged between
a child’s shoulder blades. No mourners –
just gravediggers: the sandstone cliffs
pressing their shadows down
over sea-scathed breasts:
pressing their shadows down
over sea-scathed breasts:
a shroud to hide the women
from Ottoman hands.
The earth remembers:
from Ottoman hands.
The earth remembers:
no priests, no casket,
risen red-sand, them.
In the Turk-Armenian waters:
risen red-sand, them.
In the Turk-Armenian waters:
how many have we forgotten?
Hamsi, hazelnuts, and tea,
the earth remembers: past
Hamsi, hazelnuts, and tea,
the earth remembers: past
our reflections: the nameless
turn to vapor at high noon:
the air is sodden with them:
turn to vapor at high noon:
the air is sodden with them:
see the ebony in their hair.
Finalist The 2013 CONSEQUENCE Prize in Poetry
