Poetry Suite by Sarah Maria Medina
“Forgive me for our bending, for smelling the
hatred so close to your skin”
Poetry Suite by Sarah Maria Medina
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When Sisters Swam Black Sky
There were two of us on the riverboat/ below bleeding sky— her mouth a cupid/bow & her gypsy hair an arrow. She/ curled her popsicle toes to my thigh & hid/ from terror. He threw her— a rush of light. / Streaming comet /through the hull & galley the/ film crew wanted to explode. / Cheap shot— they should’ve/ let it go in flame/ down to the black river— it was already/ a shell. My new cupcake breasts & the/ way he trapped the small fox in the/ back. Blacked out kissing games. / Do you know how to French kiss? &/ my throat opened a howl to crazy. / Take me to the asylum. Please. / He pushed his tongue between/ his teeth & smiled over mutton/ & boiled dead things. I refused the fork/ & learned to slide from window to dock. / Phosphorescence glowed in a backward/ black sky— How I wanted to jump in!!! I left her smallness behind, / ran hard down the wet dock, ran so hard/past the train tracks that they finally/ set fire.
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We lit pretend candles on a slice of sweet sixteen & pretended
wishes, but there was no cake.
They say I came with the sun, but you
were born an explosion of super nova,
a small boned thing to my slick of black
moss turned sun dirt blond. You were
half, small wet kitten in a crib of silk.
A crib of dark wail, a crib of summer,
until they found you, gums a hot pink
resistance, mouth a search
for tit, for cotton cloud of COMEBACK.
You were a super nova of sweet
sixteen to my sad sixteen, inside
that peep, tattoos blooming your skin
faster than we shouted NO! & used
the screwdriver to pound new holes.
We died small deaths & Houdinied to
the salt air of freedom & sea spit.
You were a bald cancer mermaid of
hospital battle & I sucker
punched a mouth that reloaded like a
pistol backfire— BANG! But three shining
seeds from your missing rib & mine
a ball of scar from a lucky crash, we
found the city a cone of lick & drag.
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When Berenice prays, she weeps.
We bend to the rapes on each
other’s skins: Her father drowning
her below the sea, her ears conch
shell popping from weight of salt.
The man who seared me with fingers,
whiskey breath sealing a four year fate.
We bend to the soft exhale filled sobs
before & after held breath when
everything & nothing implodes &
she rocks me like that four year old child,
come back to life as a woman with nipples
that have given too much. We bend
to the shapes of our mouths, to the ripe
cherry seeded between her teeth, to the
scent of men left behind, to the mourning
of her mother burying the gold cross,
because her daughter melts her tongue
against my thigh. Cool summer nights,
mountain grass burning, we bend to loss
of church. Mama, she howls at the black
night winding mountain.
Mama, she mouths dry storms & her mouth
begs me to— Yes, though I am only
her woman. Forgive me for loving
you so well, I say, my hand pressed against
jeaned thigh, peony lids closed to a rush
of cargo light against dash.
Forgive me for our bending, for smelling the
hatred so close to your skin, the half-drowned
salt that never abandoned your pores.
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Dear Mona,
Her dimple smile holds a quarter in the shining bar and the first thing you think is that if you had a left hook dimple like that you could work it into your act. Don’t fuck with me beautiful bitch. I’m tired of swinging hips in front of sliding mirrors, quarters that flip between arcades like we’re gaming. Put me down now lover, make me a cup of tea, sweetened with wasp dust. Stop the red carpet tricked out with sweated glitter of underage girl talk. Fuck with me– but don’t fuck with me, Jeremiah said & trick talked slow below magnolia. I want to lie down, leave the smell of bleach &— that sick side of sour bent skim milk. That smell that never leaves our skin, even after too thick bubble bath & your Girl there with you, her hair a castle of soap. Smell of tube thick powder that covers bruises on inner arm & thigh & the half morning beard of a drag queen. Lie down my love, forget the river and remember instead the bonfire of six.
Yours,
Maria
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Black Dove Faith
A blooded dove lies/ on some LA Boulevard— I spy/ something dead. Back window rolled summer/ down, my girl thighs stuck to hot/ leather. A rush the opposite side/ of flutter. / Wings in a tunnel of air/ down white lined asphalt. Rocket/ Ship popsicle— red, white & blue— on my/ tongue. I cannot stop staring. / Wings an involuntary beating. Red bloom/ against death. Don’t look!!!— But/ its wings shiver. Softness/ of down chest in an empty girl/ hand. Death on the back/ of tongue. Metallic/ like the choke that comes as/ night terror when Mama/ remarries & I hide from her/ new man— screams no one/ hears on the river. The dove/ nests in my chest, blooded/ wings tremoring. Turns black &/ molts each summer, its/ feathers swimming up/ my mouth. I feed it cherries, / small pits like gems/ in an open beak.
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Header image courtesy of Smith Smith. To view a gallery of his collage on NAILED, go here.
Sarah Maria Medina is a poet and a fiction/creative non-fiction writer from the American Northwest. Her writing has been published in Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Midnight Breakfast, PANK, Educe Journal, Winter Tangerine Review, Raspa Literary Journal, and elsewhere. She was a finalist in both Indiana Review's 2015 Poetry Prize and Winter Tangerine's 2015 Poetry Prize. She is at work on her memoir, The Necessity of Not Drowning. Visit her online, here.