United States, (contemporary)
Pig Flesh
I don’t fuck with pigs like As-salamu alaykum
— Nicki Minaj
- At lunch, we push loud and glaring titles in the scrollbar
- not sure what we’re searching for,
- our desires tip-toeing.
- But maybe we’ll find it in one of these fisted
- faces. In someone’s hot voice that sings
- itself a verge, and hope to be forgiven
- after the echo dies. We were never
- given the language to say self or pleasure or —
- a shaykh says holding your own body
- is like eating the flesh of a pig
- to survive from major starvation
- when no other food is available. Should we
- sleep in a crypt? Should we cut off
- our own hands? Then the Khalīl
- Jubrān fairy enters my head. He says
- I am like the boundless drop in a boundless
- ocean, a tree heavy-laden with fruit
- that I may gather and give back
- to myself. I believe everyone.
- Nothing satisfies the scavengers, too starved
- for too long. You know what it looks
- like: snout-mucked swine, hunks
- of forbidden fat, and we are hungry
- for flesh, to suck the scuz from our split hooves,
- limbs swaddled into a porky thicket, let
- the rot bloom us clean. I am alive
- writing this poem because
- a jido didn’t have his oil spilled and stolen without
- defiance, which has other ways of entering my life
- like in the Taco Bell parking lot,
- sliding off hijabs for a second —
- Pakistani’s a long straight tide, Sudanese
- a curtain of braids. These days I am never
- sure if my tears come from the
- come from the come from the God
- come from the longing gut or I’ve been staring
- at artificial ice pixels for too long. Keep
- searching. What’s the holiest
- thing you’ve ever seen? Girls
- talk over each other between meat-warm threats
- to dabiha: My grandma’s hands. A dove’s
- wings. Abdul’s butt when he
- bends over to pray. They are thinking
- of dropouts working at their father’s deli, calling out
- to us in Arabic when we step in for a snack.
- Their thoughts a duplicitous
- corner, pipes filling our lungs
- with Starbuzz Blue Mist, Sex on the Beach, rousing
- the animal their bodies remember they are
- when starved, spitting its inborn snort
- into the musk. Look how she teeters
- on tightropes, half-crunk, twirling into the plunge,
- then coming up for breath a little less cruel.
- The adhan goes off. We don’t deny
- its call, or the gunk of guilt God
- dumps on our heads. Who is to say what holy is?
- Mary’s menstrual blood? The prophet’s first
- kiss? Adam and Eve’s graceless
- groping? I try to unlock my cleaved
- subconscious: one side a mosque, the other
- a gritty sounder of unfocused breaths roasting
- the air. I can still smell the hogs
- when my head turns left and right
- in prayer, the hooves gathered, for now, in some wild distance.
The quote at the beginning of this poem is taken from “Itty Bitty Piggy,” the third track off of Nicki’s mixtape “Beam Me Up Scotty,” originally released in 2009. The full quoted verse is:
Now, if you see a itty bitty piggy in the market
Give that bitch a quarter and a car, tell her, “Park it”
I don’t fuck with pigs, like “as-salamu alaykum”
I put ’em in a field, I let Oscar Mayer bake ’em
And if you see a itty bitty piggy in the market
Give that bitch a quarter and a car, tell her, “Park it”
I don’t fuck with pigs, like “as-salamu alaykum”
I put ’em in a field and I let Oscar Mayer bake ’em, bitches
Hear it on YouTube: Nicki Minaj – Itty Bitty Piggy, lyrics and video
(NOTE: It’s explicit, if you dare…)
About the Poet:
Threa Almontaser, United States, (contemporary), is a poet, editor, writer and educator. She holds a MFA and a TESOL certification from NC State University. An editor for Tinderbox Poetry Journal and a juror for both the Pen America Writing for Justice Fellowship and the Scholastic Arts and Writing Awards, Almontaser focuses primarily on promoting the creative arts.
She is a Fulbright scholar and currently teaches English to immigrants and refugees in Raleigh, NC. Almontaser’s work has been published for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, Best New Poets, and Best Small Fictions. Her poems can be found in The Nation, Poets.org, Electric Lit, and elsewhere.
Her first full-length poetry collection, The Wild Fox of Yemen (2021), is a Financial Times and Library Journal 2021 Best Book of the Year, Poetry Book Society’s Wild Card choice, and Highly Commended by the Forward Prizes for Poetry.
When not storytelling or coming up with conspiracy theories, she attends comic conventions, trains her koi to do tricks, and keeps an eye out for pretty rocks. She believes writing should not only entertain, but provoke, and can be found most likely sitting hunched over her desk thinking obsessively about the placement of commas. She is currently at work on her first novel. [DES-01/22]
Additional information:
- Threa Almontaser – https://www.threawrites.com/