Amanda Roth
Down to the River to Pray
The river is an empty, wide palm
long closed to a fist. In my pocket,
there are stones. It is dawn and the truth is that
I no longer pray. Still, I am here
because I heard a rumor
that a woman can learn to unfold
her body from the machines. So I lay myself out
in the mud and measure the day bird by bird: cardinals
when I have grown weary
of sleeping, sparrows as I begin to hunger.
What is a promised land
without water? How long have I
known that the cost of being a woman
is this pocket full of stones?
I was a child when they baptized me, held me
under. Now I am becoming
the woman they’ve always wanted drowned.
The sun burns and a red shouldered
hawk nears. Everything on these banks is insatiable
hunger, myself included. With each bird,
each shade of daylight seared into my skin,
I feel myself slipping
into another body. Untethered,
the wind begins to howl. What is there to eat?
A trio of vulture circles; the sky
hangs black and suffocating.
I hear the trees pray for water; I hear
my arms scissor through the dark.
long closed to a fist. In my pocket,
there are stones. It is dawn and the truth is that
I no longer pray. Still, I am here
because I heard a rumor
that a woman can learn to unfold
her body from the machines. So I lay myself out
in the mud and measure the day bird by bird: cardinals
when I have grown weary
of sleeping, sparrows as I begin to hunger.
What is a promised land
without water? How long have I
known that the cost of being a woman
is this pocket full of stones?
I was a child when they baptized me, held me
under. Now I am becoming
the woman they’ve always wanted drowned.
The sun burns and a red shouldered
hawk nears. Everything on these banks is insatiable
hunger, myself included. With each bird,
each shade of daylight seared into my skin,
I feel myself slipping
into another body. Untethered,
the wind begins to howl. What is there to eat?
A trio of vulture circles; the sky
hangs black and suffocating.
I hear the trees pray for water; I hear
my arms scissor through the dark.
Biography
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Amanda Roth (she/her) is a poet and folklorist living in Central Texas. Her debut poetry collection, A Mother's Hunger, was released in 2021. She is published or forthcoming with Portland Review, Hayden's Ferry Review, the lickety~split, MAYDAY, and elsewhere. On Twitter @amandarothpoet and on the web https://msha.ke/amandarothpoetry
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