03 Day

You dragged infidelity out to the street and beat it.  None of this will make a difference, none of the hair pulling.  There is something about you that makes me want to carry a switchblade and strawberry flavored lip-gloss.  I don’t care if you resent making breakfast in the morning; this relationship is real.  Do not bury us.  Not unless there is a bottle of Jameson around and plenty of us.  What is it about those three colors that make you want to leave me, huh? I’m inconsolable and damn you really are sturdy.  Poor mute, statue.  You are the subject of poetry and tragedy.  I’m so current affairs.  Neon made a comeback.  So willing to make it work. 

Your language used me like a bar napkin, kid.  Here I am in the bathroom, all grit.  Mascara smudging and impossible.  So fragile: my ankles in these shoes.  I don’t understand how they don’t just snap.  That’s the way your powers work.  In the Spring it is the same, those brave little buds breaking through the frost and confusing whether.  I’m unstable and the music keeps me lulled, like you body of water.  Only men and women here in a basement.  Isn’t it funny? We always descend to do our work, as humans.  We go internal, all memory in the ground. 

-1 Day of Venus

Me lleno de cosas que decias en un pasado no tan viejo.  Ni los paso se hacen largos ya, aunque sean las cuatro de la tarde.

Where is your center, your core? As if the colors blue, orange green, are filling up with light and never good enough to make you real.  I’ve sat across from you and eaten.  No shards of anything, no slivers of glass or others.  If you were to ask me, I would respond, “Always”.  I would wear a burgundy dress, smoke a bitter cigar with absolutely no need to.  In this particular time and place I would push for our meetings to be discontinued and I’d look up from there, with ungrateful thoughts layered on my tongue. 

It is as if the shape of this didn’t matter to you, in the dark or anywhere.  You simply can’t remember every possibility.  It’s the patent leather that brings it all back.  After thinking that I had said it all, you simply stood, sponge-like.  You manage to show me the day at its newest.  In the exact same way water is only displaced and never harmed.  Coral.  You stayed though it may seem otherwise. You stayed.  You can tell by the way your lipstick sets, by the way your fabrics drape -you are not of this world.  Few rules apply in dealings with you.  Among these, you are innavigable - that is the hardest to accept. 

-3 Day of Venus*

 They say there are fewer things, deeper things and I cannot believe the words.  Anything else I hear, only the details of a city.  Two lips against each other, not two mouths, a hidden architecture.  They say you’re incandescent and mine.  Inside my hands… the way you break and still the light pours in, with all the questions.  The way I’m mad.  You window my chest in irreparable ways, all scenic, all grit. 

Two stories meet at the seam and in the shape of the letter v.  Nurture and plump terrain.  How I expose a roundness, how I dare to feed the world from my own body, yours.  How always I write about the land.  Come here, listen a while.  Irrevocable face, present sliver of stained and marked deeds.   I am modern.  I am contemporary.  I’m abstract and lie here in between. 

There are fibers and strings hanging, pulling at my fingertips.  The index and thumb, to be exact, while you look in the mirror.  As if asteraceae.  It is all for you: I’ve made this one confessional.  Little planet far.  Vinculo perene de las hojas y los astros.  Me levanta una palabra, un tal Garcia Lorca, un Dario.  Solo.  Only to drink you.  I spill, like the sand found three days later, on your bed.  The sea not wanting to leave you as easily as you did.

Not far from here there is a mariachi singing your birthday.  You are the only girl on the strip, the only light in the thick sugary coffee sky.  The only nude satin dress with ruffles like dancers, disquieted, uneasy.  I can’t remember having honest intentions.  

Born of the body, Venus, the floating light of life, fills a certainty.  I am so hungry and it has been a while since I slept.  It sits on top of the sea, the foam of a thousand men in a circle jerk.  My thirst is hanging by tread now.  Throw out a net, girl.  I’m all scales and fins.  

*Venus is in retrograde until the end of November.