house series 5.

every year my body fails me
like some ship at half mast
I am not exceptional
every body does this

circling what’s null then
some Narrows
passing through the little
Places

slipping everything aside
my body is worse off
than I remember

a container ship–
pound for pound           does the loving
eschews anything called distance
insists on how it will
train the unruly edges

every ocean or a body
say water
every curved limb say
logic
every filmy ocean say veils me
starboard over
mother tongue
patriline for white lies

all my organs
passing time in iodine and saline
waters passing on when
their use is spent
some organs fulgurated
all this logic levied

a container ship–
pound for pound           does the loving
kindly hosts anything called distance
insists on how it will blessedly
train the unruly edges

all my organs
subsisters
passing on when
their use is spent
some organs fulgurated
all this logic evident

all my organs
an entanglement
all my vantages estrangements
every year my body
encloses
one fewer organ

I will never escape my poverty
my plentitude in dearth
no matter my ascent
my body carries its own
mathematics
my lodestar does
its duty

every year my body’s frailty
like some ship circling
a thin space
I am not exceptional
every body does relent
the gale, the void then the narrows
passing through the little
Places
Slipping everything aside
my body is fine

I remember
a container ship
does the loving
Eschews anything called
Distance
Insists on the patchwork,
organdome
how it can’t
train any edges

I have thought about the oven
as a way to conduct heat
thought back to the equator as a means
to an end

I have thought about the ovum
as a way to consecrate heat, next
progeny
thought back to the equator as a means
to slate time
thought back to the time to when a little
slip gripped me
clawing and needling and needing and needing

every year my body does a distance,
distributive–like some ship at half mast
I am not exceptional
every body does this

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Asiya Wadud

Asiya Wadud is the author of Crosslight for Youngbird (Nightboat Books, 2018), pulls down the sky…a filament in gold leaf, written collaboratively with Okwui Okpokwasili (Belladonna, 2019), and Syncope (Ugly Duckling Presse, 2019). Her collection No Knowledge Is Complete Until It Passes Through My Body is forthcoming from Nightboat Books. Her recent work appears in BOMB Magazine, Best American Experimental Writing, Washington Square Review, and Makhzin, among others. Asiya teaches poetry to children at Saint Ann’s School.