Forbidden

I could never stop looking at you from different directions. You never stop long enough for me to hold you and I know once in a while it’s stolen—is this even real? do you think of me? does the thought comfort you, or are you torn between the shouldn’t and couldn’t, won’t and will it? Could it?—It’s already happening in the imagination. I’ll meet you there.

From every side, it is beautifully flawed. There are too many jagged corners.
Only a diamond can cut a diamond

Bluebird

Bluebird,

Where will you perch for the last time?

You flutter from here to there and everyone admires you for your distinct color.

Everyone knows you by name.

Everyone can see you in the crowd of other brown birds, thickets of brown branches, and leaves.

There’s no mistaking you.

Bluebird, you’re one of a kind.
Bluebird, you’re not rare.
Bluebird, you’re uncommon.
Bluebird, you’re a delight.

Bluebird, tell me,
When is your last flight?

Clarity

In a moment if clarity

I realized he was no good for me

It was a moment of futility

He’s just some guy

The special was the movie in My head

An ideology a dream I had for myself and thought could not be replaced or replicated

But in Fact he’s just a man

Full of insignificant details and redundancy

Never took the time to know the real me

Mostly interested in my body

Once he had it as his territory

He deposited it back to where it could be reclaimed

For sale the sign says

So

When is the right time to refuse this misappropriated designation of property

Fool I don’t know who is the greater fool

Him, for selling what isn’t his or

Me for allowing it

But at ease I realize in the moment of clarity that all he ever did was Want And welcome fight but now I see that love is not flawed or tolerated or broken

Good company is not guilt ridden

Imperfections are perfect for a good cause because

Imperfect people are the best people

There’s a paint brush

in the fold of a twenty

dollar bill and a

paintbrush before the

first. The twenty is

pressed under the steel

coffee maker; the coffee

maker is next to a candle

my student gave me; it smells

like wood and pine. All these

objects sit on a glass desk.

Nena Linda

Visions of silk blue
Sandals . Palm leaves
darkest green smooth
as wax silk smooth
leaves blue moon darkest
night. jungle nights,
stars, eyes, white as
bright, as stars, staring
at me through the palm leaves

nena. ven mi                                                like a panther
alma, mi vida.                                   black body rippling
el me dice,                             running soft fur clutching
nena linda                                     skin and sheets our
mi corazón                           silk brown bodies run in
mi sangre                                the jungle at night time

                                                                         reina de
mi vida
acércate
ven linda
mi amor
mi princesa
quédate con
migo mi vida
nena linda
te quiero
para siempre

Womanhood

To cherish and hold, wrap my arms around your warm shoulders, cradle your head to my shoulder, caress your hair shhhhh
“Baby”
Hold you to my chest,
“Baby”

Angry words. thorns and bristles. stinging stones. They will only irritate but never penetrate my skin

Child, I love you, and I mean you and only you, every you, whenever you, whole and true, pieces and all. I will bend down and pick up every piece and sweep the glass dust

Even though you’ll never be whole again I will put you together—all of this does not lessen me or weaken me or exhaust me

Play and pick at my insecurities
That is the price I pay to cry and laugh freely
I gladly pay

 

 

Girl, Burning

She saw her own figure dancing in the flames

Arms raised behind her head, elbows pointed to the sky

Chin slowly pulled by the Devil’s string

She arched as if time didn’t exist.

Her forearms gentle suspended, resting in gravity

She raises them as one would course their limbs through water, heavy

But here there is nothing but air:

Who would have known that which gave life consumes it that much quicker?

 

She peers closer to see her own eyes gouged by the flames, pouring out the cavities like magicians’ scarves.

She touches her own cheeks and feels no wet, just flushed heat, her throat

Closing smoke curling, rising.

She touches her throat and longing for sound, opens her mouth but

Instead, a billow of ash vomits forth, her ribs heave and pushes out the sooty air

She touches her breast and closes her eyes; she holds herself and the Devil

calls her name LOOK AT ME!

She watches her own dancing figure in the flames

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑