When they say Nomad I say Nude
Look at the geography
of my body Its stretched landscape
of cellular November & spring-like hairs
mirror shot after shot a map of
briny diamond & sculpted magnolia
polaroid on the bulletin board
train stub, confirmation number,
flag of a father’s mother’s tree
the muddy fissures of
mountains have worn paths
in shade this x-ray of
voice box & femur
indicate softly : to live
as the world rotates under crust
takes conviction
suited well below the rock
and it’s hard place
the first language I liked
writing best were
the colored pictures
my mind could make
of home
When they say Nomad I preface
With all that has been inside me
seedy pine Granulated blood
A thick bone Of homeland
rippled red-tape
a dream I am chasing out the womb
In any country it’s wrestling
with what you ultimately will become
the bill. It’s wrinkle. Your grandmother’s shadow.
I set ashore when they say Nomad
& wonder if Foundation
Begins with digging Or
maybe construction:
A couple of leafy date palms
A one walled prayer room
to let all of God
inside nation’s place
A basin of water
In the courtyard
To see a
familiar face
Yasmine Rukia is a Lebanese-American experimental poet, professional social justice bore and the reigning meme queen of Metro Detroit. Her hot takes exploring the nexus of arabesque america, womxnhood, taboo, islam and pop culture blurring the lines between fiction and futurism can be found on PaperMag, TheRedFez, Cliterature, Jaffat El-Aqlam, and others, including her IG theflowerofcarnage.