Me in Her Name

There's nothing to say if you listen

By Fernando Flores
Published on LatinoLA: March 23, 2004

Me in Her Name

Two beliefs and one cause
In a rabbit hole I found God
He resembled the truth I once told as lost
Through the summer I walked but into winter I crawled
Fall swept and shattered my knees
My eyes were burdened by visions and an act of contrition
Sat up in my bed with arms singed and throbbing
On the window sill broken glass in blood
Crows and owls mourning the death of a pigeon
It felt the same, bleeding or burning
I never saw the curse that swarmed and became me
Skin on skeletons and tombstones as bookmarks
John Lennon in headlines lying dead with my mother
A reversal of culture dried the milk in the bottle
How would I have teethed on that second hand pacifier?
I captured smoke and lit cigarettes from it
Sitting warm in an oven, a broken heart I would covet
I splintered my teeth as I bit down on it
Baby teeth in my throat, in my stomach
Tangled knots and litter
That?s what I became
As I took in her breath and got caught in her stare
A slut of a wife, an abandoning mother
Breasts of stone, a creviced face and eyes dug like graves
She brought me down like a sinner
Razor marks on my hands, arms, shoulders
Traced down to my feet
Seven?s to reform into an ?X?
My spirit was marked that day, a Sunday
With new voices to guide me to new faces,
Gorgeous eyes wrapped in beautiful skin changed solitude into jealousy and love
Happy birthday, I?m 23
A charlatan I became under the enchantment of malinche
I?m sorry, ever sorry
Honor would come to me under the tender lick of Pavlov?s dog, a mutt, a dinner
So will you still recite my name?
Even after coming so close to imprinting my face on the dirt where broken hearts grow?
The ground saturated with the blood of the dead after the holiday rain
I lapped at it with my tongue before the wind took me away
Could you answer me this
Will she pursue me?
And yourself?
Even at 24?
Desire and patronage never share the same line as my ego
Question five,
Will you ever learn the curious secret the ocean holds as to why I am still breathing?
So I once woke up beneath a dream where I got to kiss her
Under a different conscious I was pleading to a face to severe the wings from the torso
The angel bleeding brought warmth to my heart
Die angel, please die
Mortality will make you mine
So here, waiting for courteous elevators to open their doors and lift me to smiles
I?m memorizing questions that will project a voice
And as new dust blows through fading footsteps, filling cracks, raising ground
I recall looking at the glass through the light
Faint pictures in colors white and blushed like her skin
So beautiful
Never transparent like the ghost who scratches my door
At last, let me pour this
Conception takes place in a moment of pallor where insensible awareness is embodied by a spirit
Borderlands where identities sleep rise from beneath us
Never from within
Spatial controversies submit us to static and inertia
There we find mirrors, realizations
I was the witness when I opened my eyes into my own mirror
I was Lazarus
But stuck in a coma after a desire for sin and a failed motion of a trigger
Through the window asleep I finally saw myself
I?m in love
I?m in love with brown eyes
Depressed by my own but enamored with the glist of hers before me
She?s a dream remaining a dream
Keeping me quelled to my bed and exalting me to my feet
She?s a moment always relived with scintillation in eyes and an ascending heartbeat
She?s a breath inhaled with fascination and released with reverence
She is what I see on my wall and feel beneath drowsy fingertips
This girl, an undefined beauty
She is the death of me
The truth in me
Her name is

About Fernando Flores:
Fernando Flores is a nice, rockin' vato. A little on the ugly side but mellow. He's studying architecture and sopes in Pomona. savorychulito@aol.com

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