She's Me. You're You. Let's Go Live.

If I could, I would
press my hair straight

remove my ribs

cut the meat
from the bone

stretch my skin back

have a tongue so
sharp it could
cut a bitch

I would wear white
and eat in abundance
until my belly is full

Unashamed

I would be toothpick

brittle

commercial laugh
and just another girl

Sometimes I wish for this

Sometimes I wish
to shrink, disappear

Sometimes I am stretch
and pull and poke and
prod and squish and
uglyuglyugly

and sometimes I ask myself

but what of my soft body?

What of all the stories
it has carried?

What it has seen?
What it has held?

No one else has
held me underneath
the moon like she has

My heart sits inside a box
hundreds of miles
outside my chest.

The sky is filled with smoke.
A red sun looks down
upon me as I drive into
the desert and can only
think of you

sitting behind white walls

alone but not alone

left to your thoughts.

You call me and say,

“I miss you.”

“Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Do you think I’m gonna be okay?”

“Do you think I’ll go home today?”

I hope so.

I hope I
pass down
a legacy of
softness.

I hope one day
you feel at ease.

May you know rest.

May you know what it
is like to speak in our
mother tongues

to belly laugh

to kiss the earth
and lay your head down
and listen to her heartbeat.

I hope you know that
I am always with you

that I am both the moonlight
and the moth that longs to
be with her

that I am a proud ancestor

that I am full of love for you

that every moment I lived
I tried my best

that I was always thinking
of you

Four levels below the earth
he held me close sucked my
tits like I was made of nectar
made of milk and honey a slow
drip gave me bite marks and
worshipped me as I am a god
who has gifted him just a

taste

After Marty McConnell

Just wear the dress. Sweat naked
in the summer, in the possibilities
of it all. Let the mango drip down
your chin, sucia. Drink the goddamn
coffee whenever you feel like it. Go
as fast and as far as you can. Take
this feeling and give it a place to bleed.
Watermelon heart all swollen with love.
There are always more arms to wrap
yourself in, fruit to eat. Take a lover for
every day of the week if you must. A love
like this will eat you alive. A love like this
will either kill you or keep you running, but
it’s why we come back. To have a love
that leaves a stain. To have a love that
reeks and snarls. To love a toad. You
must cut it out though. You must build a
new house. You must dip your fingers
into the mirror instead and let the mango drip
messy and sticky. Make your own heart swell
for once in your life.

Do you ever dream about the mountains stitched onto you? Do you ever miss the summers there? Do you ever think about rice paddies and banana leaves? How did it feel to cross the ocean? Were you carried in a bag? Or were you held the whole time? Did you come over in a box, a small coffin? Or did you think of it like a bahay kubo, a little home on stilts? Did you find a place for yourself here? Did the home they brought you to ever feel like home? Or was it an eternal eclipse, like Bakunawa had finally succeeded in swallowing the moon? Do you like to be worn? Do you like to be shown off? How did it feel to be born from the most beautiful brown hands in the world? To have danced underneath the moonlight? To have walked up and down the mountains a hundred times? A thousand? A million? Since time immemorial? Do you ever dream about the mountains stitched onto you? The rice paddies? The banana leaves? How long has it been since you were there? Would you even recognize it now? I hope one day we can return together.