Squatters
Written by Kimberly Campanello on Sunday the 25th of November 2012
The Squatters
The
squatters keep building tin houses
on my
friend's land
and he offers me
half
its value
if I go to Brazil with a machete
and
some Portuguese
and make them stop
for
the next three years.
The
squatters keep giving birth
without
c-sections and use gravity
rather
than forceps to let it all out.
The
squatters keep breathing
in and
out, in and out, Sat Nam.
Truth is our highest identity.
I am
squatting over you, here,
on the bed,
and
godammit, I have to put cunt
in a
poem one more time
because
you are looking up at mine
saying,
Jesus. To squat is to live free.
To
squat is to trust that your insides
will
get ripped out
in the
best way possible.
To
squat is to sink low at the knees,
but
not lock them. To squat is to linger
and
let the lips separate and speak
saying,
I can't imagine
never having known you.
Published in The Stinging Fly, Summer 2010