Featured Poem | July

Sofia


We took turns exchanging earthquakes in the bathroom
               Kiss me, New Mexico – the tattoo of el diablo
               Spanning her back, knocking on strangers doors
               Because every house looks the same
Silhouette Sophia, a gold dust turned flush when the sky
Parodies the value that paints her mouth

               A placental abruption / one stanza memorized
From the bible, only spoken in Spanish and congregated like a
Love poem passing from one fingerprint to the next

It’s written all over her freckles, a constellation fish and cheap cerveza
Accented with finger-sucking Tajin she transfers to my mouth; no one
Knew she could play the cello, or liked to break into her fathers
House and steal his shoes – out of spite, she never finished anything
Other than an orgasm        but her vocals were versatile and hum like lush gossip

I saw things I’ve never seen again – a crescent moon waist with doubts
and disability, abandoned and palpitating, 102 degrees of afterglow,

                       She still smells like her grandmothers kitchen.

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