Today's poem is by Brenda Cárdenas

Empty Spaces

She is a switchblade afraid of the hint in a two-second glint that
might spring you an arm's length away. I fear. She kisses close, to
shut the open gate of hunger, heavy-footed as history perched on
her chest. Empty spaces. She never rests. Stumbling through the
clutter of language, she rummages cramped closets for her lost
sounds—i griegas y erres—tumbling like marbles spilled in the
attic. Spaces I fear. She mainlines white noise-a guest persistent
as rain flooding her muted room. Spaces. She adds another hue to
the walls crawling with orange and blue that zigzag the curves of
her world to the ceiling. I fear empty spaces. She is reeling in a
ravenous subjunctive that would doubt its own bones were it not
for her grip slipping from your moist shoulders to the winter of
metal bedposts. Spaces I empty. She grinds against you, minding
only the bland blue sky that filters through the O'Keefe hollow
of her pelvis. I empty fear. In this abyss, she comes, braying the
silence away.

Copyright © 2009 Brenda Cárdenas All rights reserved
from Boomerang
Bilingual Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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