We are in the moment before we decide,for the first time, to have sex.We fill our mouths with salami and wine.I am careful, peeling wax paper off glazed sponge cakebaked by nuns who live down the street.One nun, this morning, took my hand in herswhile she told me that the most important ingredientis the silence of prayer.I cannot tell you this, but I held onto herwhile she walked me through a villagemade of thick paper. A train with a real lightand human figurines hot-glued to looklike they were heading somewhere.I was terrified. I didn’t touch a man for seven years.Asleep. Your eyelashes open against my chest.You are the first person to not know this.
Saying I Am a Survivor in Another Language
Taneum Bambrick
Feature Date
- September 28, 2021
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This poem was originally published in The Nation magazine and is reprinted here with permission.
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Taneum Bambrick is the author of Intimacies, Received (Copper Canyon Press 2022) and Vantage, which was selected for the 2019 American Poetry Review/Honickman first book award (APR 2019). A Dornsife Fellow at USC, her poems appear in the New Yorker, The Nation, American Poetry Review, and elsewhere. She has received support through a 2020 Stegner Fellowship, a Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference Work Study Scholarship, and an Environmental Writing Fellowship from the Vermont Studio Center. With Dorothy Chan, she edits book reviews for Pleiades Magazine.
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