We will love like dogwood.Kiss like cranes.Die like moths.I promise.
For Six Months with You
For six months with you, I wouldQuit my loverLeave the citySell my books.
For six months with you, I wouldLive in KansasJoin a carpoolShave my legs.
For six months with you, I wouldBe an actressWait on tablesBurn this poem.
But what if it doesn’t work out?
If it doesn’t work out I’ll join a convent
If it doesn’t work out I’ll cut my hair
If it doesn’t work out I’ll leave the country
If it doesn’t work out I still don’t care.
For six months with you, I wouldBreak the true lawBreak my poor heartBreak my vow.
Now ask me what I’d doFor a year or two.
Williamsburg Poem shaking like the El beneath the Williamsburg trainI wait for him to comebridge and tunnel meeting like the girders of the Elhis hard arms open my thighs
in the hood they have names for himthe girls say his names:they call him dos cafes con lechethey say ruega para nosotrosthey say he’s yucca, white and shininglike the crucifix on your breastthey say he’s lucky like a spiderthey say he’s yucca, white and hard
they watch himrun like a wolf on the rooftopsrun like a wolf on the rooftopsevery night
rumbling like the train beneath the sidewalk and the El above my headencircled by these girders and his arms hewhispers spray paint and graffitipulls me down into the subwaypulls me down and up againlifts me to the bridge the girders tattooed light the open El
his mouth burns the asphaltgraffiti burns my thighsand I run through the clotheslines that flap on the roofsI run through the night after him.
the girls give me garlicthe girls all pray for meand I pray with the words from the spray-painted wallsand the girders that shake on the Eland I pray:
he is my catholic con lechehe is my old native religionI pray: ruega para nosotrosI pray: ruega para mi.
he is my brujo lobo blancohe is my amor y aranaand my prayers are as dark and as deep as his nightas the hole he will fill with his eyeshere in me
laughinghe opensmy Williamsburg thighs.