Judy Wells Poet

Berkeley, CA
jwellspoet@att.net

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Albuquerque Winter, 1980

albuquerque winter

by Judy Wells

1980

3rd edition

Hawkeye Press

Albuquerque, New Mexico & Canyon, California (3rd edition)

52 pages

5.5 x 8.5, stapled, paperback

$10. 3rd edition (supply limited)

Cover art by Juanita Sanchez.

Book design by author.

Collector's item. Contact jwellspoet@yahoo.com.

 

NAVAJO WOMEN

 

Purple, turquoise

and red figures

are moving down the hill

Navajo women

are moving down the hill

They sit in clusters

the old women

listening to speeches

on Grants

and the uranium mines

while we, the women

the Anglo women

dress

in faded blue jeans

and flannel tops

 

This is a serious rally

The Navajo women’s

husbands

are dying

Are dying of lung cancer

Their sons

will die

Will die

of lung cancer

in 20 more years

This is a serious rally

 

Why do I

in faded blue

jeans

keep staring at those

Navajo women

as if they held the secret

in their jewel-like

skirts and shirts

of turquoise

and red

and purple

and green

 

Why do I

keep staring at those

Navajo women

holding black

umbrellas

to ward off the sun

Ward off the radiation

Ward off those

powerful rays

 

I need a black umbrella

for my eyes

to shade myself

from the powerful women

these Navajo women

in their turquoise

            and purple

            and red

            and green

in their power

In their purple

            and turquoise

            and red

            and green

                   power

 

Mt. Taylor, New Mexico

April 29, 1979   

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells. 


LABOR

 

She was a woman

who dealt

with the task

at hand

So when the man

came to her

and said:

“My wife

is having trouble

giving birth.

15 hours in labor.”

And he ran

his hands

through his thick

black

Indian hair

and seemed

in despair.

 

“It is my fault”

he said

“Yesterday, I

tightened the bolts

too hard

at work.

It is my fault

this labor.

I tightened

the bolts

too hard.”

 

“Let’s not lose

any time” she said

“Let’s get to work”

said this woman

who always

dealt with the task

at hand

And they began

dismantling his house

Unscrewing hinges

from doors

and cabinets

and windows

Loosening

lightbulbs

and faucets

Unbolting

table legs

and chairs

Taking out

tiny screws

from light fixtures

and tea pots

and alarm clocks

 

(In ancient times

the Indian women

unbraided

their long black

hair

and unraveled

a newly woven rug

while awaiting

the birth of a child

In ancient times

the Indian women

unbraided

their long black

hair)

 

At 3

in the morning

their labor completed

the woman

who dealt

with the task

at hand

and the man

who tightened

the bolt

too hard

rejoiced

The child

was born. 

 

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells.

 

 

LIKE JUBA

 

I am listening to jazz

pleasant music

at Le Club de Elegance

Albuquerque, New Mexico

At our table

Juba’s stoned

shakes her dangling braids

and yells

“Talk to me”

“Talk to me”

to electric guitar

and organ

And organ

talks back

and electric guitar

talks back

and Juba’s in heaven

Mildred sings the blues

and we wail and scream

but still

I am listening to jazz

pleasant music

at Le Club de Elegance

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Now the organ takes off

on “Misty”

but not the way

you hear it in supermarkets

and suddenly

something’s happening

I scream

“I’m getting misty”

That’s all I can say

but that’s not all I feel

Jazz provokes desire

Somewhere inside me

a knife blade

sheers away

some protective layer

some no nonsense wall

and desire

floods through my veins

No—

Hold it back

Shove it back

but the music goes on

as desire will go on

I go with the music now

Shake my body

in purple pants

and purple shirt

I throw back my head

and show my teeth

            like Juba

 

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells.



 

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