Nandi Comer, the Michigan Poet Laureate, was in attendance at our very own Andrews University this past week for a poetry reading. She is a talented poet who grew up in Detroit and studied English and Spanish with an emphasis on Latin American Culture at the University of Michigan. Today, Comer writes and performs literary pieces that incorporate the history of Detroit while also examining race, gender, sexuality, and class.
At the reading, she read poems from two of her books, “Tapping Out” and “American Family: A Syndrome.” This article will feature short excerpts of her poems. Her first poem, “On Becoming A Fan,” discussed her passion for Mexican professional wrestling and was composed as an answer as to why she developed this appreciation for the sport.
“On Becoming A Fan”
Don’t blame masks. Blame smoke.
Blame the tricky sorcery
of shiny boots, capes,
and props. Blame spandex’s
tight grip on wrestlers’ thighs.
When swollen biceps of masked men
slap canvas, how like the broken toys
their bodies become, each one
proffering his limbs to the other.
And we, their spectators, hooked . . .
She also discussed wrestling itself in her poem “La Base,” discussing the feeling of a wrestling technique being used on you as you are forced to watch it happen, immersing you into the sport.
“La Base”
A few seconds until the end and I am hunched and breathless, an aching ball of body
kneeling center ring. The arena is all sneers and whistles while the other guy
Scales ropes. With each of his steps, the turnbuckles’ creaking warns me
to untangle my legs, to get up and steady my frame. I know
the only thing to do is wait. His arms will come down in an Axe
or maybe a Suicide Bomb. It doesn’t matter the move . . .
Besides her admiration for Mexican wrestling and its relevance in her poetry, Comer relayed how she found motifs that explained what she experienced in the world. She talked shortly about her experience as a woman of color and growing up in Detroit, reading “Detroit, Llorona, My Heart, My City.” The title came to her from the Mexican folk tale of La Llorona, a woman who drowned her children, making comparisons with the way Detroit treats its own children.
“Detroit, Llorona, My Heart, My City”
Another ripped night, another dank song,
another bloated head of a headline child
bobs in your river. Loaded barrel woman,
pumped piston city, seven of your boys
rushed a townhouse door for jewelry,
for a cable box, for a game console,
tossed over kitchen tables, turned another boy’s face
to mush. And you? You’ve gone and given up
their ghosts. Singing a murderous sinfonietta . . .
Relating back to her experience as a child learning Spanish, but also the cruel reality of her environment, she also shared the poem “Learning To Roll Our Tongues, Detroit 1986.”
“Learning To Roll Our Tongues, Detroit 1986”
The word plátano, banana, is easy on our teeth.
Two blocks away, a man knocks a woman to the ground.
Libro, book. The man is one of our fathers. Cerdo, pig.
His dry hands tighten around her throat. Mariposa, butterfly.
We mimic our teacher’s pitch, curl the p out like a pout.
Gato, cat. We are anchored
to the rug’s blue-red-green. Azul. Rojo. Verde.
He hits her again. Her knees scrape the pavement.
España, Angola, Japón. I trace my fingers
over each country’s translated name, imagine
the sounds at each border. She tried to escape.
No one stops his hitting. Pájaro, bird.
A robin stares sideways from our teacher’s card.
It does not sing. It does not know trees,
nor nesting, nor migration.
Comer also shared a poem about love, touching on the differences and, most importantly, the compromises in language one makes in a relationship. “Words Between Us.”
“Words Between Us”
amigo mágico amor
For you I translate a dream:
bougainvillea flor tumbling
from my elbows and knees.
I am always undoing the language
of my body.
My arms, my hair say
Black. Dark. English only.
Nandi Comer takes a very personal and raw approach where poetry is concerned, diving deep into her memories and experiences to pull out complicated emotions. We are so grateful for the pleasure of having her here this past week!
The Student Movement is the official student newspaper of Andrews University. Opinions expressed in the Student Movement are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editors, Andrews University or the Seventh-day Adventist church.