Posts for 2020 (page 216)

She was destruction
At four years old, she destroyed her family because Mommy and Daddy didn’t love each other anymore
She destroyed a home at eight years old when her happiest moments came when one more hole in the drywall meant one less bruise on her body
She destroyed a body at ten years old when she learned that the pain could be eased when her skin was bleeding
She destroyed a life at thirteen years old when she told the police about the man with blue eyes that was twice her size and twice her age
She destroyed a relationship at fourteen years old when she demanded love from the heart of a loveless father
She destroyed a vision at fifteen years old when her lips brushed against those of another woman and it felt like fireworks
She destroyed expectations at sixteen years old when she discovered a voice of her own
At seventeen years old, she brought the world to its knees and demanded a revolution.
For she was not destruction, she was only raised by it.

Alexa Negrón Luciano (Neulisa Luciano Ruiz), 29, Toa Baja, Puerto Rico, humble and noble • Yampi Méndez Arocho, 19, Moca, Puerto Rico, your favorite baby  •  Monika Diamond, 34, Charlotte, N.C., chosen mother to countless  •  Lexi “Ebony” Sutton, 33, New York, N.Y., would give you the shoes off her feet in winter  •  Johanna Metzger, 25, Baltimore, Md., college graduate and self-taught musician  •   Serena Angelique Velázquez Ramos, 32, Humacao, Puerto Rico, a strong soul  •  Layla Pelaez Sánchez, 21, Humacao, Puerto Rico, had recently moved to the island from New York  •  Penélope Díaz Ramírez, 31, Bayamón, Puerto Rico, wore long blue pants and a white shirt  •   Nina Pop, 28, Sikeston, Mo., always happy  •   Helle Jae O’Regan, 20, San Antonio, Tex., lived like it was the best day of her life every day  •  Tony McDade, 38, Tallahassee, Fla., struggling, struggling, struggling

My lifestyle hasn’t changed much
in years. I still save the phrases
in my phone, overhearing
talk in the grocery store and, later, riff.
Words like timepiece and quick
descriptions of others, momentary

mirrors. Words like ration and ruin. Words
like protest and a certain frantic
shopping, as if all the condiments aisle
could fill the chasm in our hearts. I buy 
the rice vinegar to dash against
my takeout, and, later, satisfied, 

I love it fierce. Alone can be
a comfort and prophecy, even now. Partitioning
myself like a sovereign territory.
Here, I know what seems important:
cigarette smoke, the dream/threat of
looming ruin like sunrise. Sometimes,

it’s hard to exactly verbalize all
I really want and try to say.

you’ve hurt me before,
but i’m the only one holding the knife now.
there’s nothing more you are capable of.
i have the power to end this.
in point of fact.  i am now you.
no one wants to hear this.

it’s better we never see each other again.
this doesn’t erase my responsibility.
i am the only one holding the knife now.
no one wants to hear this.

heart-wood
based on “Trees” by W. S. Merwin

arms outstretched
without opinion or judgement
whatever sphere there is
after this dimensional
green
what will I regret
other than those unacknowledged
conspirators their pooled
shadows waded in by those
who never look
up or
consider the paper’d skin
calloused muscles shouldering
overhead
without the tongue
of tree are their names
more significant that the scar
of a falling star that fists
its way across my dreams
I sleep in a green cradle
while the trees
pass me on
to the next
exclaiming over my beauty
pliant and forgiving

doesn’t it feel good
     to arise with aromas of herbs in the air
     to be delighted by the morning dew drops donned by dainty petals
     to have your hands in the dirt and the sun baking the back of your neck
     to feel the fragrances of the freshest food about to be foraged
          it does

I can’t hardly stand the heat. 
The more I sweat the meaner I get. 
Every salty drop beading up on my brow 
pisses me the fuck off when I feel it 
gathering the audacity to condense
and slide its way over my pale skin.
My blood gets to boiling
and I brood and I’m ornery.
Summer doesn’t sit right with me,

but the salt sting dripping into my eyes
makes me think of tear gas today
and I’m thankful for the reminder
to shut my sweaty mouth
and quit my bitching. 

“We”
Only happens
When you’re falling
Into the pool
And you reach out
To pull
Me
In with you

She walks the waters edge

Solemnly she gazes into the stillness

Looking back at her, there is beauty–

A woman like none she has ever seen.

Lost in the gaze of the mysterious woman,

There was a keen sense of connection- the rhythm of her heart — with hers became one.

For a moment, she felt the beauty’s strength. Her confidence. Her kindness.  Her…hope.

Then, ashamed, she withdrew.

The voice inside her head whispered, “that will never be you.”

Darkness rested on her shoulders, and she could barely stand – suddenly she felt weak.

And in the darkness the voices emerged. 

Stone, after stone, after stone, were hurled at her, relentlessly— bouncing from her bruised and battered body into the water.

Finally, numb and beaten, she crawled back to the water’s edge — looking for the mysterious beauty she had just seen — seeking one ounce of her strength.

But the stones’ ripples stole her away — left, looking back at her, she saw her own disfigured face, creased with lines and shadows of disappointment, hopelessness, hurt, and defeat.

In the ripples she saw the one reflection she knew too well, “Oh, there you are — “

Again in shame she withdrew.  Closing her eyes and rebelling against her mind. She shouted, 

“No! This is not me!”

Lurching forward, she attacked the reflection- trying to fight back — she only longed for peace, strength,  and beauty.

She believed that just under the surface, she would find the mysterious beauty and her strength.  But the ripples of deception raged as she thrust herself into the deep.   And the cold, lonely waters swallowed her whole as she sank.

Her heart was too heavy — deception led her to sink.

I. 
where do words go in this new june heat
as i look to the places that taught inclusivity
and turn off its light? how come 
those who watered us hate how we’ve grown?

i’ve forgotten kentucky and her cruelty
cradled in a rolling hill of a day dream
she’s lassoed herself into Ab’s arms
“but (ugh), we were on the good side”

forgetting history is privilege 
and we have failed to remember
racism is in our sweet tea kentucky blue red-lining segregating gentrifying blood

II.
i march with my brother 
when the sea begins to rise 
our hands in surrender
a fear bubbles inside me 
how can a body be a weapon 
when it’s reaching towards God? 

III. 

justice
to all of the flowers
prematurely picked
to the dreams deferred
over and over and over again
justice