Seizure by Kimiko Hahn

BOMB 12 Spring 1985
012 Spring Summer 1985

In Nicaragua
old women
mobilize with sticks and boiling water
again.
You’re North American.
you figure it’s the season.
But back home
the moon
acts like that girl
who’d been fucked in so many places
she hardly knows which hole
is for babies
and you know you understand

un deber de cantar

and you know you understand
your desire
to see Broadway
NY NY
taken in a flash of July heat
and you know you want it.
(The green parrots snap
guapa
and your thighs sweat like mad.)
And you want it.
Shit. We don’t have mountains here.
The rooftops
will do the trick

Because you belong to a process
that belongs to you

one

you love to touch

and nurse

and deploy

on your lap, here
Nicaragua. On your

lap here Nueva
New York. Here

novio, baby

sister. When I say mujeres

man of course

I mean y hombres

tambien.
I’ll never forget

the shower that riddled the tobacco fields
on the Honduran border of Nicaragua

where Suyapa
una niña de 4 años

learned June 9, 1983
what somocistas are

—yanquis, contras—
if she didn’t know before she was hit by mortar. Seizure

you envision as the street
after the water has broken.

 


Note: Un deber de cantar (A Duty to Sing) is the title of a book by Rosario Murillo, a contemporary Nicaraguan poet.

Three Poems by Jennifer Kronovet
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One Poem by Alice Sant'Anna
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Translated by Eric M. B. Becker

Igniting the Relational: Youmna Chlala Interviewed by Mónica de la Torre​
She Holds The Wind In A Bag Youmna Chlala1

The language and objects of collective dreaming.

Originally published in

BOMB 12, Spring 1985

Cindy Sherman, Dario Fo, Bruce Weber, Lisa Fonssagrives-Penn, and Raymond Voinquel.

Read the issue
012 Spring Summer 1985