Lucas de Lima - 3 poems

 

MARIAS

I DREAMT OF MY MOTHER DYING & WANTED TO BUILD A FIRE

MY MOTHER IS ONE OF MANY MARIAS FLICKERING

IN CIUDAD JUAREZ, ONE MARIA DIES EVERY WEEK ON THE WAY TO A

FACTORY

AS A WOMAN I CALL MYSELF MARIA & WEAR THE DARKEST RED ON MY

LIPS

WHEN I KISS PALE BOYS I TRY TO SET THEIR FACES AFLAME

SO THE WHITE BOYS’ CHEEKS MELT

THEN I RECALL MY PAST LIFE AS A WHITE BOY WRITHING IN A WHITE

BLANKET

WHENEVER I WANT TO THROW THE PAGE INTO THE FIRE

ANA MARIA STOPS ME BY CRASHING INTO MY BACK

LIKE A WAVE OF THE VIRGIN MARY’S TEARS IN A LATIN AMERICAN

CHURCH

ANA MARIA WAS THE FIRST PERSON TO GIVE ME A CLOVE

CIGARETTE

IT SET MY LIPS OFF

WITHOUT BURNING THEM UP

ONE TIME MY MOTHER ACCIDENTALLY KISSED ME ON THE LIPS

I STARTED WRITING POEMS WITH A MATCH

 

KILL SPOT

MY BULLET CRACKS THE GATOR’S SKULL LIKE AN EGG.

MY BULLET SHATTERS THE GATOR THE WAY A WORD BREAKS OPEN THE

LORD.

MY BULLET IS BEAUTIFUL.

IT SHIMMERS IN THE QUARTER-SIZED KILL SPOT ON THE GATOR’S NECK.

MY BULLET MAKES MY FATHER PROUD.

HE HOISTS THE HUGE GATOR INTO THE FISHING BOAT BY USING THE HEAD AS

A COUNTERWEIGHT TO THE ARMOR-PLATED BODY.

IS THE GATOR A MANLY PINK UNDERNEATH?

I FANTASIZE ABOUT STRIPPING HIS SCALES.

HIS LEG STILL TWITCHES, FADING SLOWLY WITH THE LIGHT

WHEN I SHOOT HIM NEAR THE HEAD AGAIN.

THE BLACK CRY OF A HAWK COINCIDES WITH MY BANG.

I KNOW THE HAWK IS ANA MARIA BECAUSE HER CRY PIERCES

MY EGGHEAD.

I CRY YOLKY TEARS IN THE BOAT WHILE MY FATHER FROWNS AT ME.

THE SKY IS BUBBLING

YELLOW ABOVE.

O FATHER,

I MOAN IN THE CYPRESS GROVE,

O.

ONCE A GATOR INGESTS THE HOOK

WITH THE BAIT OF CHICKEN,

WINGS TEAR THE SKIN ON MY BACK AS THEY GROW.

 

GHOSTLINES

THE GATOR’S BRIMMING RED EYE DEPRIVES US OF THE GHOST.

MY MUTE WINGS TALK AFTER SOMEONE CUTS THEM OFF.

THEY REVERBERATE OUT OF MY BODY.  THEY FALL BACK TOWARD THE

RED SUN.

IF I FALL INTO THE GATOR’S EYES, HE WILL GLITTER WITH ALL POSSIBLE

COLORS.

HE WILL LOSE HIS COLD-BLOODED BLANKNESS & BECOME A HOT BODY.

WHAT ANA MARIA WAS TO HIM.

ANA MARIA.  I JUST WANT TO CHECK IN WITH YOU.  I’M NOT GOING TO YELL.

ARE YOU THIS BOOK YET?

ARE YOU, ME & THE GATOR ALL

HANGING OFF THE SAME SPINE?

WITH FORMALDEHYDE, OUR BOOK COULD BE PRESERVED AS IT TURNS

BLACK:

OUR MAGNIFIED MEAT BURNING IN SUNLIGHT.

LET US MINGLE IN THE SWAMP A FEW MORE DAYS.  THE BEST SHADE FOR

A TEAM TO PERCOLATE & PRAY IN.

WE TEEM AGAINST ALL ODDS IN THE QUICKSAND OF ALL EYES.

ANA MARIA.

YOUR ADUMBRATION.

I SEE YOUR SPLASH OF WATER FROM THE SKY WETTING THIS BOOK.

MANY READERS ARE GHOSTS

OBSESSED WITH OUR BODIES.

 

Lucas de Lima is a contributor to the multi-authored blog Montevidayo.com.  He lives in Minneapolis.

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