Boderra Joe

Nightcap 

bones by bones 
digest like enzymes 
a casual night 
moonlight glances at 
words from weary leaves 
teeth and flower 
refuse to grind 
a world of cells 
where eyelids stiffen 
and jawlines tighten 
we, as clouds of bacteria 
stomach parasites 
stomach a country 
taken for granted 
moonlight licks 
stretch marks 
chemical cocktails 
spill on land wounds 
when i hear 
sand swift between ruts 
i miss the desert 
i miss the hesitation 
very faintly 
i hear the Pacific Ocean 
alive, breathing 
the hollow sound 
shuffles through
window screens 
the spineless air 
overlooks an open house 
into a poor 
marginalized spleen 
remaining alive 
in this house 
with walls as glass 
and several brown mushrooms 
growing from my abdomen 
a walking parasite 
bloating the moon’s 
light to light a way 
on sheets of skin 
baby flesh flies 
appear as rice 
to remove soft tissues 
as a host for many things 
the coved moon 
adjusts our bones 
to sing a song 

Boderra Joe is a Diné poet, journalist, and photographer. She is Bit’ahnii (Folded Arms Clan), born for Tabááha (Water’s Edge Clan). The author of Desert Teeth (Abalone Mountain Press, 2022), she is the recipient of fellowships from Willapa Bay AiR, the Indigenous Nations Poets (In-Na-Po), and the Bosque Redondo Memorial. She is from Bááhazł’ah (Twin Lakes), New Mexico, on the Navajo Nation.

ISSN 2472-338X
© 2022