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.
if I’m being honest
I haven’t felt pain in nearly a decade
it is still January 31, 2010
and I’m sitting on Louis’s bed
the sun is blaring into his room
lighting up my fingertips
I am staring at a text message
I am trying to swallow it
trying to gulp down the words
I read it in your voice
but it can’t be your voice
she says that you are gone
and that she is “sorry-
so sorry, that
I couldn’t bring myself
to your room again”
she leaves out the death in your eyes
you deserved better than death in your eyes
they were hazel
I always wished for pretty eyes like yours
but you said I had better ones
ones like the darkest part of the ocean
I hadn’t seen it but I believed you
I thought of you sailing to the end of the world
to prove your point
“aha!” you would say, “mi negrita”
I thought of the life you would never know I had
I cried so much and so deep
that my tears became acid
and that acid burned
the nerve endings
and god, I’m almost certain
I could feel my soul tearing
and leaving this earth with you
and today, I’m almost certain
the only thing that will not die
is my grief.
– sheila c.
For Grandpa, until we meet again
it’s like the sound
of a memory
playing in the background
like you’ve walked
into a room,
10 years ago
and upset the equilibrium
you can’t hear it
if you turn your head
slightly,
but you can feel it in your gut
pulsating from inside of you
ready to burst
I would reach out
if I could
but calls are so far gone
and messages can’t convey
what nervousness
and thought will not
let through,
..come through..
how do I say?
– Sheila C.
there is something cathartic
about crying hysterically
in the back of an uber
while the driver glances over
at the rear view and nervously
digs through the top 40
attempting to ignore you
while Mariah Carey tell us
all she wants for christmas
and it’s “you”
John is not a great driver
but he’s a good companion
he knows that I am not okay
and he doesn’t need to ask
he lands on a song
about moving on
and ISNT IT IRONIC
i thought i had emerged
burial shroud
in hand
ready for the WHOLE world
but tonight I am liable to dig
a hole and shove my face
in first
John glances back and says finally
“Hey, I’m sorry to… uh.. interrupt but I just wanted to say.. maybe take a breath??”
that’s very sweet but
breathing in is hard
with a mouth full of
dirt, John.
-Sheila C.
