January through March 2003 ~ Volume 11
Publisher D. Menendez, EIC Jim Christ
Editors Janet Kenny & Ani Gjika - Joe Carcel Ghost Editor
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| This Isn't Love |
|
Radames Ortiz |
Another night of yelling, of throwing a television across the living room floor. My lungs caved in, like two red balloons, deflated & exhausted on a kitchen counter. Neruda never wrote about this kind of love. Where is the ghost meat, the toes soft as sand, the hair-golden tassels of thread & silk? Where are the lovers watching a full moon creep over a solid earth? This isn't love but screaming in the dark. The night scabs over as my face becomes an etching of a blue map, a drum weary of the palm. Like the constant beating of the earlobes, the ringing of the forehead. This isn't love. Soon, walls rattle with a contemptuous anthem, a song well beyond hate & blood Neighbors hear her cries, muffled yet tense like muscles torn at the joints. Is this a cry for help or an echo over burnt grass? The yawning siren at my door, the men ready to wrestle me free of the earth -an attempt to save me from myself. No more scratches across the neck, no more teeth marks on the skin. They will pry me away from home & bed as I reach towards the moon for the years I have lost. Poem copyright © Radames Ortiz 2002. All rights reserved. |