Two Poems

On November 20th, 1980, a Texaco oil rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Louisiana’s Lake Peigneur, permanently altering the natural ecosystem and rendering the once freshwater body saline.

LAKE PEIGNEUR SPEAKS TO THE OIL RIG

before the salt, I do not remember.
my deepest skin carries
the mark of your helixed teeth-

before, I used to ask questions:
do you remember what I taste like?
recall for me how you took

vastness and demanded it be
deeper? now, I cease interest
in why a drill drills, I know

and I do not forgive you.
perhaps my only curiosity
lies in what a boring tool begets-

sons, I know, first
petroleum, next a boy
raised on oil, chooses to slick

himself with that which will kill him, crafts
a bandage from a person,
bleeds straight through; he swims

in me, takes on salt, says
I am hard to swallow, spits
me up and cries why must

I be so full of myself?
easy, because I am empty
of you. I am so salt

now, less lake, more
circle, more protection spell-
thank you for opening

this body so I might pour
my holy mineral down each
vessel your mud-pumps

ache to cut into; see every
yellow-suited soft body float
in my middle-

safe, we are, here.
you will see still water
still and call her tense,

angry, as if a machine is entitled
to even a wave’s aggressive
caress- no. I am pruned

with my own fullness.
I am not mad, I am saturated
brimming with the seasoning

of safety- before, I would have held
your body in this earth mouth
and said words like ‘swallow’

‘suffocate,’ before, I would have
brought on the sharks- now,
there is simply no more you

here. no you at all.
now, a middle full of loving
creatures. now, still water.

now, salt.

In Ancient Greek myth, the Hecatoncheries were a family of hundred-handed  giants who possessed enormous strength. Conceived by the earth and the sky,  they fought epic battles and served as guardians to the Grecian Gods.

SELF PORTRAIT AS A HECATONCHERIES

I lift the boulder
I close an open palm about
a weight & wonder

do we choose to bear it
or are we taught to love
the ovation that comes at busy hands

I close every open palm
I hold one hundred marbles
of earth & watch the people

throw roses at the threat of me
see me loud & heavy & shout
encore! beg for a show of endurance

of rage, for me to close my open palms
about a stranger’s hunger, lift his
two humble hands into ostentatious clapping

I cast it all off today
I dropped every boulder, I left
every party & went home to cook for myself.

my body is a little black book today
every hand a lover, every lover
has my name, today

where once there was a yelling tongue
there is now a fresh cut candle wick
I go alight & the sun gasps at how

I burn violent & soft as her
today, I go home to my love
& their handsome back replaces every boulder

today, I close my open palms
about myself. I hold myself
with all my hands

I lift my body from the bed
I choose to carry
the unbearably glad weight of it

I smile as nobody claps.

________

Shay Alexi is a writer and performer based out of Atlanta, GA. They are the author of “Diary of a Ghost Girl” (Glass Poetry Press), and their work has been featured by The Rumpus, Tinderbox Poetry, and phoebe, amongst others. Connect with Shay at @_shayalexi_ or at www.shayalexipoetry.com