Sound Poetry

May be grapples with the fragmentation and reclamation of home and identity.
Music and Poetry: Andrea Lim
Video Work: Nina Dodd

May be
maybe Northwest sea-storms
carved columns so deep in my flesh
i am rendered unrecognizable to you

maybe you wish you had a tarp wide enough
to protect a coastal cliff from eroding
the parts of you in me

maybe if scree had engraved
honor and tradition into the rock face
you will not be stranger now

But maybe i cannot blame you.

maybe your love was the regretful whip
you laid on my tongue,
for my voice don’t sound the same.
i say three and you say tree,
and with that my roots are tangled
in distant soils you’ve never seen

maybe your love speaks through my favorite dish
bypassing my beating muscle
depositing sedimentary food in my stomach

maybe your love are sand dollars
stuffed in red packets
even though i have no gold,
no wedding bands to trade

but maybe my only wish
is for your breath to know gentle words,
when salty tide pool waters
leak from sandstone crevices

you see, my home is now a warm cave
tucked beneath a cliff-face;
where saline kisses kindred blood,
but k(no)w, you have not evaporated!

under waning lunar moonlight,
a reflection of you glistens against dark water
as I light a match to mandarin peels
your shore feels too far away now to wish and kneel

                   

II.  
are you breathing?

I breathe

are you breathing?

                          I am breathing

are you breathing?

                          I am breath

s(mother)       

I.
I am loving witness

of bare toes on tight-rope; 

exit signs, blue-tinted windows
 

I am loving witness

of hollow alterations;

brackish holy water

poured over frankincense and myrrh
 

I am loving witness

of torqued vessel;

inertia spun

from throat-filled hummingbirds
 

I am loving witness

of cotton fibre and fine pressed linen 

as you 

smother

                 smother 

                                    s (m o t h e r)