To Sir, on turbulent relationships
[Or not.
A fine catch
woman by submission]
Never touch the girl you've struck
Never kiss her in all her bloom
Never lay the girl who's hardly known another's bedspread
Never take the girl and place her in oblivion
Never take the girl out of your pocket to play today
but not tomorrow
maybe next Tuesday,
who can tell?
So long as no one is looking
You only glance at her sidelong
as you stroll past.
Never think of me-
a woman of submission
a woman with a broken womb and shattered breasts
a woman who spat out your essence
a woman shrouded by a past
a sin
a lie
a girl in all but shell.
Es Pera
Not a single day went by unstirred by her face in my mind. Those days crawled through my fingers into the soil, clockwork for the child..s spell. Crushing thirsty dandelions and plucking mushrooms filled the gaps I didn..t want to feel her gone. Everyday I hoped and prayed to the God of small things fixed under his INRI and the lady de Guadalupe gaping at me in her golden-ray splendor for my tiny sins above the dresser, watching and waiting with me.
An October morning drenched in sun like every other she appeared. Her more stunning than the virgin [please forgive me, madrecita]. I clasped my tiny arms around her pale neck, the sweet smell of washed pears and faint sweat. I tasted her unruly brown curls, salted and dry. I asked nothing. She groaned and pried me off. ..The baby... I felt her bump and wanted it dead. It was bad enough she had another boy on tow.
She hardly glanced my way. I felt her love receding. She walked the day of all souls while I wept face down on my shared bed. Her name is Esperanza but like all golfas and loose women, her own mother said, she goes by someone else.
fugaz
te escapas de mi rostro
fugaz
al sentirme tuya
criatura vil, arrinconado
desliza tus dedos sobre mi piel rasgada
roza mis senos agrios
toma mi vientre roto
y olvídate de mi al despertar
A MI ME ARRASTRA EL VIENTO
y me muero por irte a buscar
she's no good
don't claim to know
for her heart will hide
her fallacies
the calamities
her eyes do implore
don't look away
she's no good
YOU ARE READING
Corasound - words from the start to 2006
PoetryRescued words from MySpace. Who cares, right?
