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      March 27, 2016B-WordJudith H. Montgomery

      after a line by Joy Katz

      1.
      Some words cannot breach the box of the poem.
       
      2.
      Box may be admitted, as in boxing match.
      Or box of matches. Bomb, as in Brussels.
      Put a b___ in a poem, and watch it …
       
      blast. Bodies littering a shattered airport
      (apartment, corner deli …) floor. Breached
      security, then bleed-out. Bandage: blanket
       
      grabbed to wrap a burned body. Because
      break. Blow. Boast. Boundary. Brothers.
      Brandish. Bitch. Beat. And body count.
       
      The territory of the poem confiscated by
      genes that read XY XY XY: Boy. Who
      clutches the ball—or was it bomb? beneath
       
      one arm, as he batters shouting to the goal.
       
      3.
      Some words bawl into the basket of the poem.
       
      4.
      Birth. Breech. Breast. Belly, blooming. B___.
      Put a b___ in a poem, watch
      it fall … Bless. Bubble. Bib. Bawl.
      Balm. Menses: monthly blood, that impure
      (maculate) stain.
      Versus Mary immaculata.
       
      Proscription: no kid, no pup, no apple
      of the eye. Put a b___ in the poem, and watch
      it fall like a stone …
      No diaper. No shit. No fond toddle—
      no bless, no bliss. No public cradling
      of the lively arrival.
       
      No X and O, kiss and cuddle, no
      voicing by the body bearing two XXs
      wound in the promise of the double spiral.
      No as though to blot out
       
      the body of the b___. Put a baby in a poem
      and watch it fall, like a stone
      through wet tissue.
      I bring forth no stone,
      but a manuscript of genes,
      scroll intricately sheltered in the blanket
      of blood and balm.
       
      Birth: origin of every one of us, XX,
      XY. Bidden, not forbidden, words
      called to celebrate every messy
      entrance. Embodiment. I will
      bring a baby into this world
      of (war) (wrath) words.
       
      5.
      (All words uncoil to bloom in the womb of the poem.)

      from Poets Respond

      Judith H. Montgomery

      “This poem written in response to the most recent bombings in Brussels and in defiance of what may be to come.” Note: The quoted line is from an interview with Joy Katz.