BIO
Ananda Lima’s work has appeared in The American Poetry Review, Rattle, The Offing, PANK, Origins and elsewhere. She has an MA in Linguistics from UCLA and is pursuing her MFA in fiction at Rutgers University, Newark. She was selected for the AWP Writer to Writer program and has attended workshops at Bread Loaf, Tin House, the Community of Writers and Sewanee (where she currently works as staff). Ananda is working on a full-length poetry collection centered on immigration and motherhood. Ananda was born and grew up in Brazil and now lives in New Jersey with her husband and their son.
Bee
My speech is a dance
its shape approaching
a lemniscate, the buzzing
mere side effect, my name
homophonous with copula
a link devoid of me
-aning, but they called me
‘Queen’ and I carry
my whole hive in my body
They called me ‘Queen’
but now in winter, I burrow alone
pregnant with grief underground
as I sit still as snow falls
outside, the cold
cuts and sucks the warm
breath out of bodies and takes it
away in the wind
outside, all my daughters
are dead
This winter
and the next spill
off onto spring
the dead drowned
in drops of melted
ice, survival isn’t
a gift, isn’t a blessing
survival is duty
Outside all my daughters
are dead, and I carry them
in my body
*Bee was written after reading about bee hibernation (in which only the queen hibernates, and the rest of the hive freezes to death) in the children’s book “Over and Under the snow” by Kate Messner (https://www.scholastic.com/teachers/books/over-and-under-the-snow-by-kate-messner/)
Mother Tongue
To deal with American
dates my strategy was to tell
myself to do the opposite
of what I thought I should do
This used to work, but now
I no longer remember
what I first felt so strongly
about so I am caught
not knowing for certain
the day I was born
switching my birthday
from June to August
one of two months
when the temperature is right
the other one being July
when I was once certain
my mother was born
but now I am more sure
of its other date though
I still don’t know
if the proper way to say it
is “July 4th”
or “the 4th of July”
My son was born in September
2011 and when the nurses
in his well visits quiz me to confirm
our identity
by the declaration
of his birth
date, I always have to stop
myself from saying
“nine eleven”
My son does not in any other
way remind me of 9/11
that day sad but seen from afar
on a screen didn’t belong
to us then, the two of us, then one:
not in America, not a person
yet, neither
for those who count
as a person
a person not born
here, nor for those
who count as person
a person not born
But now we cannot escape
its imprint
the effect of the proximity
of those digits
even if out of order
or in the correct order
I can’t tell anymore
My son doesn’t know yet
how dates work
he barely understands the days
of the week, I try
to make him say them
in Portuguese like I do
with all the words
I can still remember
hoping to make gains
by attrition, but today
because I didn’t know
what to say, but still
wanted him to understand
me completely
and because I was afraid
for him speaking
anything other
than the unofficial official
language of this land
which is not my land
despite the claims
it makes in song
I gave in
and spoke to him
in my broken
version of his
language
*11/9 was written as a reaction to the announcement of Donald Trump’s victory in the early hours of 11/9/2016
Contour
Apply a foundation
lighter than the color of your
skin to sponge and spread
the wet paste into a line
from the tip of your nose
to your forehead
let its faint itch tingle
as it settles then
apply shade
to the sides of your nose
draw an outline out of the dark
dry powder to create the thin
illusion of a groove, then tickle
your face with the bristles
of a broad brush
the secret lies
in blending
blend
blend
blend
Apply formaldehyde
to your hair and brace
for the hot iron
then run
from the rain
apply bleach
to your hair
apply bleach
to your teeth
apply bleach
to your self
apply yourself
apply to college,
apply a college/
Californian newscaster diction
to your speech, apply initials
to your name
apply cushioning
cautioning, comforting
silence
to your grievances
the secret lies
in blending