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READ INDIGENOUS: Holy Wild
In Holy Wild (Book*hug), award-winning poet Gwen Benaway lays bare her experiences as a trans woman of Anishinaabe and Métis descent. She charts sexual intimacy and self- and other-love but also transphobia and settler colonialism through gorgeous, expansive poems, like the title poem we’ve featured below.
From Holy Wild by Gwen Benaway (Book*hug)
Holy Wildmy gookum said onlythe wild ones are holy. bush in northern Michiganis the ancestral field of my body, a girl who tastes of summer ragweedin the high heat of noon. my body grows by night in secret,wet with yearling dew. breasts and hips spreadlike bushfires in a dry season, skin pale as moonlight at dawn,soft as a muskrat’s pelt skinned in March. my mouth is a damselfly’s wings,iridescent breath on your sex. my hips hold a cock the colourof crushed blueberries, bittersweet purple. my breasts dart from your handslike minnows, chase deeper water. my gookum said a woman moveslike the sway of cattails in a June wind.I lean to you like an otter dives, slickand glistening against your chest. underneath the cedar of my thighs,past the birch tree of my spine is an opening, a rattlesnake den,when you press your body in me, the sound I make is a blackbird’s cry.here is the wild heart of me, rush of heat on your fullness,this is the holy wild she made me. a woman’s sex is as sacred as her land,my ancestors learned from creation, a woman is as holy wild asher body’s made to be. * * *The Author
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