Open the window
love
We can sleep
in the sky
that slips in
softly through the
screen
Black milk night
swirls around
our bellies
while we dream of
being born
at dawn
Category: Poems
desert poem
does the sand under my feet
dream of the day
it was the bottom of
a shallow sea
sifting back and forth
rocked in warm currents
tickled by little
fins
the dry hills were
islands, then
fish hatched in their
rocky ribs
frogs sang and there were
birds
the wind cannot
even howl, now
nothing grows here to
give it a voice
El Arcoiris / Para mi Ahijada
Ama como si te estuvieras ahogando
y siempre primero
a ti misma. Piérdete, y no
tengas miedo; cada día
hay un nuevo sol.
Saborea todo.
No esperes nada.
Mírate al espejo para no
olvidar.
Camina con la cabeza en alto.
Baila con el pelo suelto.
Canta a todo pulmón.
Cuenta las estrellas.
Bebe del rio.
Tírate al mar.
Porque la vida
es una
las noches
son largas
el corazón es de carne
el alma es de nubes
y tú eres
el arcoiris
hoy
Suitcases
You are sitting there in the living room with your shoes on and your hat.
And the tv is off which is impossible.
And there are suitcases beside you.
You say you are leaving. That much I can see for myself.
You say you shouldn’t have come here in the first place.
You say I don’t love you.
You say you read that in my diary.
I don’t say anything.
Clearly, you have helped yourself to my words.
You say the driver will be here for you any minute and he is.
I say goodbye.
The first time you left me you snuck away like coward and I nearly died of grief and rage.
But you begged to come back.
Maybe I wanted to see you walk away like a man; watch you walk out the door with your shoes on and your hat.
Maybe I wanted to remember you as the back of a hat and two sets of white knuckles clutching your suitcases.
Gasp
(a surfing poem about drowning/not-drowning)
spinning helplessly
down below
i tuck and spin faster
is this how she dies?
dashed on a rock?
her head clobbered by
the rocketing board?
a hit just right would
knock her unconscious
she would forget to
hold her last air
suck in lungs of sea and
go limp
time stops
between heartbeats
awake in this roaring
blind night, i check:
my neck is
not broken
both arms, unharmed curl
overhead
perfect legs pulled in
protect my belly
somehow
how far down
i am not yet drowned
she is a little ball of
curled girl
in a seething sea
spinning lost somewhere
waiting for what happens
she is the planted seed
which contains the
rest of her life
far above me
the board surfaces,
finds light and sky
a solid yank to my leash leg
tells me which way is
up
to a world full of air
i open and
kick through the foam
finding the top
as the gasp
explodes
Prayer To The Mantis
teach us, mother/sister
the moment for teeth
we are tender-skinned creatures
seduced by softness, softened
by a slow caress and close
breath
teach us, show us
when and where –
quick
before limbs are unraveled
just
below ear, left or right
(A very old poem I wrote once up on a time when I was very mad. It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but…)
caimanes dormidos
corremos al mar
con los ríos
no nos detienen
las piedras
las vueltas
las ramas caídas
pasamos encima de
caimanes dormidos
(from Tell Me About TheTelaraña)
grandpa (for grandma)
when he comes for you
go to him
like you did when you
where a girl
get up and go
leave everything behind
without looking
back
we are here
in the doorway
waving
strange dark
get the hell out
of my dreams
can’t you see my husband
lying here
slightly snoring
you have your
own wife
who adores you
young and
sweet
get out of here
what’s wrong with you
are you
sorry now
about what you
did then
you are
looking for me
in this strange cold dark
trying to speak and
take my hand
(Note: The original poem starts out with a stronger word than “hell” but I can’t quite bring myself to post it that way. So you can read it whichever way you like it best.)
tell me about the telaraña
give me your arms
quiero ver las venas
quiero sentir la piel
entre dientes
quiero ver las formas que hacen
the negative spaces
while you talk to me of máscaras
of música
tell me again about the telaraña
and use your hands
quiero ver los movimientos
de las cosas escondidas
los músculos que se mueven
en la oscuridad completa
inside and under skin
(title poem from Tell Me About The Telaraña)
lost birds
how do you mourn
a country you left
on your own?
how do you mourn
youth that
dried up like
hot water in the sun?
howl
hide
stare through windows
at the sky
wait
a little longer
for summer
for winter
wait for a burst of laughter
once in a while
if i tell my tales, will they
fly away from me
like birds
or grow by my door like
the rosebushes,
planted?
if i open my mouth
what language will i speak?
what will i say?
will my words fly in circles
and bite me
like mosquitoes?
they almost killed me, once
how do you love your life again
when you leave your country and
your youth dries up like grass,
when everything you love is
only in your mind
(either far away or flown)
and all the love flies
around and around
the rosebushes like
lost birds
who don’t know where to land?
The Chicken or The Eggs
Maria Lucía points to the hen, then to Fernanda and laughs.
I don’t understand.
Fernanda is eyeing my hen.
She wants to eat her.
No, no! Fernanda says, pressing her hands to her heart.
Maria Lucía is eyeing her own hen.
She wants to eat her.
Now we are all giggling and I confess to myself that I also want eat her.
We laugh at each other’s hunger for meat, weighing one pot of stew against all those eggs.
Talking to Myself 