the sour falls slowly
dredging the past
as they pass
like an alchemist
making something out of everything
this feeling never let go of me
because I never let go of it
and I try to stand on parquet floors
swaying my hips and lifting the space
inside me
digging my toenails into the wood
finding a place for sutures to drip
I know this face
is levied against tides
that live to swallow
but my gulps
resist as hollow
no,
there is nothing left to take
– sheila c.
is that what it looks like?
underneath the shade
swaying palms fronds in your eyelids
while the melancholy lingers in silence
i can leave the heartache behind
i can grow new limbs
and teach you where to break them
so i can’t run beside you
you can have this present
and I will take the future
you can have these memories
and I will mute yours
rolling pink silk like the sunset
you wandered into something
and it’s my fault
after all
I left a crack wide open
you barely had to pull back flesh
to find the pulsating mass
that made breaths into gasps
and lust into longing
– sheila cordova
i am longing for the warmth
of your light
yellow and gathered and black in the center
i veer closer every morning
arching closer to your beams
i am longing for the sting
of your heat
i know the odds are slim
that you have noticed
me
in this sea of golden creams
softly grounded
while you soar above me
pulsating at the edges
at the very brim
i am cast into your seasons
like the summer
and the spring
winter born and thick
i drink you in
can you feel me
from here in the earth
where i have been?
– sheila c.
is there anything worse
than losing your arm
before really learning to use it
right before you pump the blood
to your fingertips
and break the space between them
squeezing time in your grip
i could hold you
I could
I could breathe you in and
let out a gasp so deep
it would rattle your bones
but what good is a gasp
in the likeness of a dying breath
what good is strength
in this weakened mess
I am the cherry blossoms
in the park we’ll never see
I am the summer
you will never know to be
– sheila c.
no, I didn’t want to give you this
so I won’t
instead I’ll let the words fall on the page
as they may
with heights outstretched and unpunctuated
standing still in white space
waiting for a grasp
I’m thinking.. you’ll remember this pause
it’s not what you thought,
is it?
– sheila c.
I have three pages for you.
it was daylight so bright, we were blinded.
it was fresh brewed coffee in the morning.
it was so black, it was a hole.
– sheila cordova
there’s a saying that goes
you’re not really from here
until a train car of people
collectively ignores your sobs
I am peeking out
from under a vegan fur parka.
I am confirmed.
there is no acknowledgement in sight,
not for two transfers
and a 2 minute walk.
I glance down at my hands
tears are a welcome moisture in the winter
I was once dead
an overzealous ER
(albeit heroic, sure)
brought me back from an enveloping warmth
I told myself that anything
from that day forward
was a gift
the gods have since tested this gift
some days, I wake up to a cattle prod
in my lungs
and I am out of breath
and I am terrified
And.. I don’t think I can blame you
or this city
– sheila c.
