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| Lake Wilson, Fayetteville, Arkansas. Photo by the poet. |
Thirty years I’ve taught in Arkansas
Sometimes in Arkansas I paddle the lake
under foliage forty-three shades of glory and jade,
as kinetic as my students’ creativities,
and the state forges fetters for thinking minds:
Act 372 tried to make queer library books a crime,
but it turned out Act 372 was a crime
Thirty years I’ve curated space for students
to think through choices, weighing in hand,
like palming the heft of Lake Sequoyah pebbles
before picking one to skip across the surface
The state puts hands on our bodies now:
Arkansas Act 180 makes abortion illegal
even after rape, killing more than choice
Thirty years I’ve taught in Arkansas
where ice makes bright blades of branches in winter
while daffodils sunshine up through the snow
Forgetting that we live on colonized land,
my state lets ICE deport dreamers
and taxpaying international students,
but defends a mob that scorched the nation’s capital
Thirty years I’ve mattocked rocks to upturn soil
where love can grow, and imagination
Act 710 calls boycotting Israel antisemitic hate
makes anyone who wants to speak on campus sign
a pledge never to boycott Zionist Israel—
I’m a proud supporter of nonviolent boycott,
and Act 710 is antisemitic and hateful
Sometimes I float the swim hole near Ponca,
thanking my friends who saved the Buffalo River
from hog carcass dumps by agribusiness
till the next polluter tramps in these waters
The state claims that wanting justice for Palestinians
means wanting to trample on Jewish peoples—
I wish the state would read a queer Palestinian library book
Sometimes in Arkansas I hike Hemmed-in-Hollow
and the sunset is streaked purple and healing
My state produces white phosphorus for Israel
to streak skies in Gaza and Lebanon, over Arab folk’s homes
Sometimes my state breaks federal law:
the Leahy Act forbids weapons for war crimes
White phosphorus on civilians is a war crime
even if the civilians aren’t white
Thirty red-gold autumns I’ve taught in Arkansas
planting bulbs that push through thirty springtimes
The white phosphorus arsenal risks workers’ health
in Arkansas’ Blackest and poorest city in the Delta
Act 237 calls teaching critically about racism a shame,
calls what I do on campus indoctrination:
Act 237 is a shame and indoctrination
Thirty years I’ve taught in Arkansas,
more hemmed in than ever, and hollow here ring
guarantees of First Amendment freedoms
If I invite a white phosphorus expert to campus,
they’d have to sign a loyalty pledge to Israel
Sometimes I hear the queer purple music of the Ozarks,
and the state forges fetters for thinkers and dreamers
Mohja Kahf is author of a novel and three poetry books, including My Lover Feeds Me Grapefruit. Kahf’s work has been translated to Turkish, Japanese, Italian, Arabic, German, Portuguese, Urdu, and French. She is a supporter of the Palestinian-led nonviolent movement for Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions since that movement’s inception in 2005. Winner of a Pushcart Prize and a 2018 Lifetime Award in Inclusive Education from the Northwest Arkansas Democratic Black Caucus, Kahf has been a professor of comparative literature and Middle Eastern studies at the University of Arkansas since 1995.
