Poetry

A body can waste away quietly, carrying an enemy in its blood. It doesn’t want to fight; it wants to toil skin-deep in the blood.

Meaning the Boricua, not the brutish brain that argued Everything in the State, nothing outside the State, nothing against the State; meaning the man of the island outside US borders but not outside US possession, the descendant of sugarcane and…

The first woman ever made, walked into the hippodrome, counterclockwise, her jet arms paying homage to the great sunflower field of mothers she had left behind, scenic hips reminiscent of old bougainvillea

Lately, I’ve been angry with the world— it’s my new coping mechanism. Somewhere in my country, an oversized penis is being chiseled into the vagina of a six-year-old. I want it to break

Fish Crew We feed our neighbors’ fish when they’re away,goldfish living in small man-made ponds.Anna’s yard is a tangle of flowering shrubs,pink and white blooms, small waterfallthat foams into the tiny pool.We throw some pellets in and wait.The fish swim…

my pussy hurts. Like it’s been kicked. Cunt feels too tough. It’d never admit to feeling pain. Vagina’s imprecise

Soft jingle of chimes, feet wiped clean at the door.

Crumbs — all that’s left of my coffee cake. Plates clatter as they’re loaded in the dishwasher. Ashtrays on the bar. When Hopper painted Nighthawks he didn’t intend to evoke loneliness —a waiter, two men in suits, a woman considering…