a mariachi prophet foretold my death & now my hungers must be heard
BY EMILIA HAMRA.
to offer my tears to a pink lake
to exit the nightmare field
to wear a jacket of green leather
to wear a velvet gown ochre & old
to wake up laughing
to tell you my trickster dream
to bear a son under the sign of the centaur
to dance kizomba on the moon
to prove you wrong
to sprout spider veins & strands of snow
to paint stars on your shoulders
to paint a war on the road
to give someone the book they need most
to pray the rosary in perfect spanish
to hear the man in mariachi rags sober up & sing
to kiss in a theatre’s red shadow
to learn something wild in sierra’s soft voice
to break one of the harpstrings on your back
to glimpse notre dame’s next spire
to gather up in my skirt all the moonlight i can carry
to feel the tender electricity again of a girl named azul
to read the poem sylvia wrote in the oven
to become a pale meal
to forge a sword the color of your sorrow
to see your shadow gleam
Born in Arizona on an Aries new moon, Emilia Hamra now lives in Philadelphia where she founded The Shoutflower, a print journal of delirium and dream. She studied Creative Writing at ASU, and was the recipient of the national Norman Mailer College Poetry Award. You can follow her on Instagram @shetalkstobees.