Poetry by Lourdes Veronica


Inshallah

You who in sudden oases

uplift handfuls of sand and my fate

You date-tasting on my tongue

as I search migrating storks for good omens:

you, too, are desperate for my longing.

These wrists split open reveal

waterlogged petals inside.

You: a gasping

sunlight.

You rich in outraged earthquakes

underneath my meadow skin

You a kind of winter Eden

awake with all the flowers I cannot name

You on behalf of the snake

sluicing me in apple blossoms

You conceiving contrite tears

and the longest orgasm I’ll ever have.

You licked across my breasts

You windswept with each genie of Arabia

You who laugh

berries bursting along the bottom of your voice:

isn’t it scary how neatly my fate

fits the welcome of your palm?

Harvest

I thought you should know

dangerous marrow of my hip bones

my waist fastened with

hungry cobras

my hydrangea beauty

without you go to waste.

My husband

too much of a mourning

to hum honeybee love to me.

I grope for budding music of some spring then

interrogate air why don't we break up.

Your verdant voice

rich in its own preamble to a rainstorm

leafs through me and

and sorrow is atoned for

by all the places

you drowned your fingers in.

At night one hears

the garden slowly tide in

with a history

of rippled trees and lemons

tender in their splitting.

Only you can harvest

full-burst tulips

on my tongue.

I am a Moscow-born translator and teacher currently living in Rome. My poems were featured in In My Bed Magazine (Canada), the Silver Birch Press I Am Waiting Poetry Series, Lavender Review, Window Cat Press, Winamop, Chantwood Journal, Fable Online as well as nominated for 2015 Pushcart Prize. My poems in Spanish found their home in the Margen Cero Magazine.