Postcolonial Love Poem

Natalie Diaz

Contents (37)

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and polished levers, how many screws there were, how many lantern-lit

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POSTCOLONIAL LOVE POEM

Also by Natalie Diaz

When My Brother Was an Aztec

POSTCOLONIAL LOVE POEM

NATALIE DIAZ

GRAYWOLF PRESS

The author and Graywolf Press have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify Graywolf Press at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.

This publication is made possible, in part, by the voters of Minnesota through a Minnesota State Arts Board Operating Support grant, thanks to a legislative appropriation from the arts and cultural heritage fund. Significant support has also been provided by the McKnight Foundation, Target, the Lannan Foundation, the Amazon Literary Partnership, and other generous contributions from foundations, corporations, and individuals. To these organizations and individuals we offer our heartfelt thanks.

Published by Graywolf Press

250 Third Avenue North, Suite 600

Minneapolis, Minnesota 55401

www.graywolfpress.org

Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-64445-014-7

Ebook ISBN 978-1-64445-113-7

2 4 6 8 9 7 5 3 1

First Graywolf Printing, 2020

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019933473

Cover design: Mary Austin Speaker

Cover photos: Natalie Diaz

Postcolonial Love Poem

Blood-Light

These Hands, If Not Gods

Catching Copper

From the Desire Field

Manhattan Is a Lenape Word

American Arithmetic

They Don’t Love You Like I Love You

Skin-Light

Run’n’Gun

Asterion’s Lament

Like Church

Wolf OR-7

Ink-Light

The Mustangs

Ode to the Beloved’s Hips

Top Ten Reasons Why Indians Are Good at Basketball

That Which Cannot Be Stilled

The First Water Is the Body

I, Minotaur

It Was the Animals

How the Milky Way Was Made

exhibits from The American Water Museum

Isn’t the Air Also a Body, Moving?

Cranes, Mafiosos, and a Polaroid Camera

The Cure for Melancholy Is to Take the Horn

Waist and Sway

If I Should Come Upon Your House Lonely in the West Texas Desert

Snake-Light

My Brother, My Wound

Grief Work

I am singing a song that can only be born