5/12/2017

Dear Fer,

I.

My dad says that I have to learn

That my anger, my being,

Is a summation of a clash between two

A combination of mom and dad

Of mexican and italian and anger and passion

But am i always that clash

Or am i also that space in between?

The half assed

The forgotten the

Unsure the

Not worth it

Insecure

Is that why you dream of someone that isn’t me?

And maybe your guilt it just a consequence of my moonlight

Me watching you in your sky,

Luna in your bed

Luna in your mouth

White luna dripping

Oh

This is not a poem of the drip drop of me in you

But the drip drop

Dropping of me from

You

of myself from

You

of myself

Moving further from

you

Not existing in any of your in-between spaces

But you being all of it

For me

The half assed

Forgotten

Unsure

Not worth it

Insecure

Love

amor?

Do you love me?

II.

I am the watcher

the knower, the omnipresent goddess even when you don’t want me there

I am what all those old Mexican love songs are about

Luna Luna, Ana Gabriel, Gabriella

She is smashed into a collection of craters held together by dust and stone

A collection of her wounds held by the string of your words

And decimated over and over by the secrets you hold so dear to your

Dick

La Luna is the clash but she is also the in-between

The light glaring, interrupting your dreams and our late night fucking

I, (we), are the violent love and violent seizure of your (our) heartbeat

Slowly still healing

I am that clash, I am that in-between

I am my father and I am my mother

I am Mexico and Italy and all of that fucking passion

I am love making and I am fucking

I am the unsure and I am certain

I will interrupt you and I will reconcile this