"I loved this book! It will feed you. It will show you how to live."
-Gayle Brandeis, author of Fruitflesh: Seeds of Inspiration for Women
"The Pomegranate Papers is a rich, deeply satisfying poetry collection about the often surprising journey of motherhood and creativity. Steele's language is gentle and fierce, the poems both lush and complicated. This is a collection to read slowly and savor."
-Caroline M. Grant, author of How the Cassoulet Saved My Marriage
This Bird
1
What is this bird, who scratches, camouflaged in the colors of papers
that have been scattered and burned? See how it hops, in reverse,
to search for its food? And then, another. And another again.
A trinity of birds outside my window, jumping on crippled feet
through the crinkly leaves— and a voice whispers in me,
I am that bird. And this. And this. All three.
2
I am female. I am male. I am juvenile.
I am a family, the entered and the entering,
and the baby they hope to feed long enough to survive.
3
There must be a story about this, a legend or myth--
something to tell me how a woman can also be a man,
how a human can also be a bird, how a body can also be a word,
so I look, and find only the generic (for ‘bird,’ I find Horus) attached to a name.
I look in book after book for ‘sparrow,’ and find only spider and snake.
There must be more to being a woman, I think, so I keep searching,
and at last, I turn to the Bible. On the left is the sparrow sacrificed in Leviticus,
and on the right, she is lowly and afraid.
4
I close all the books and look again out the window.
A female cardinal taps on the glass with that beak, so peach, so yellow, and says,
Write your own book.
Hop backwards until you find food.
Build your nest on the ground.
Live for today, not tomorrow.
Tend to your eggs, no matter your mood.
--from The Pomegranate Papers by Cassie Premo Steele
1
What is this bird, who scratches, camouflaged in the colors of papers
that have been scattered and burned? See how it hops, in reverse,
to search for its food? And then, another. And another again.
A trinity of birds outside my window, jumping on crippled feet
through the crinkly leaves— and a voice whispers in me,
I am that bird. And this. And this. All three.
2
I am female. I am male. I am juvenile.
I am a family, the entered and the entering,
and the baby they hope to feed long enough to survive.
3
There must be a story about this, a legend or myth--
something to tell me how a woman can also be a man,
how a human can also be a bird, how a body can also be a word,
so I look, and find only the generic (for ‘bird,’ I find Horus) attached to a name.
I look in book after book for ‘sparrow,’ and find only spider and snake.
There must be more to being a woman, I think, so I keep searching,
and at last, I turn to the Bible. On the left is the sparrow sacrificed in Leviticus,
and on the right, she is lowly and afraid.
4
I close all the books and look again out the window.
A female cardinal taps on the glass with that beak, so peach, so yellow, and says,
Write your own book.
Hop backwards until you find food.
Build your nest on the ground.
Live for today, not tomorrow.
Tend to your eggs, no matter your mood.
--from The Pomegranate Papers by Cassie Premo Steele