1 poem with audio
Dear River Body Song Instructor
Is a river free
if the banks are manmade,
the flow regulated?
I want so badly to make
my face a mask of air
for you, to unhinge
and lift the roof
off of my mouth.
To catapult
my gut’s bell
to the back
of the room.
It’s all for a point
on the wall at the back
of the room, you tell me.
As far as you can throw it –
that’s your audience.
That’s your public.
My body, without edits,
cannot reach that far
without cracking.
I am in need
of revision. It’s hard
work to sound natural,
effortless. A river
never gets to sleep,
but skims and carries
everyone, everywhere.
I try so hard to be a good
vein, easily found, producing.
I know you want me to
be better so more people
can hear me, so I don’t break
my heart and throat
straining. The desire
to please is self-imposed.
Lie down to find your breath,
you tell me, and I do.
Sync my rise
to yours.
How much
are you holding?
How much
can the floor
carry for you?
No body
is ever finished,
fixed. Like a river
I’ll massage my rocky jaw,
find my mouth,
and open.
Alexa Smith is a poet and performer from Washington D.C. She lives in Philadelphia, where she edits Apiary Magazine. You can find her poems online in Entropy, Peach Mag, Dark Wood, and Memoir Mixtapes.
“Dear River Body Song Instructor” is a response to the video exhibition 2 RIVERS + 30 YEARS by Laura Heyman and Luxin Zhang, written and recorded for the Everybody Ekphrastic Audio Tour at Vox Populi in Philadelphia as part of Just in Time: 30 Years of Collective Practice.