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by Lourdes Verónica.



Yearning between Species


In the beginning God
created yearning
between species
nuclear despair
between two darks
male and female.
What a gift to unfold your body
across the Italian Peninsula
of smirking teenage gods
and telluric refugees,
and covet – snow-quiet –
your skin from
my hands of morning lingering in
your curls –
and other dreaded joys
to plunge ourselves in.
Suddenly Lilith. Suddenly insatiable.
Who blesses open the doors
and windows of your name.
You will come down my bones
speaking in tongues
of respectable snakes
and bruised by all the names for pleasure
you never knew you knew.
And I won't know if eyes like yours
belong to the icon or the devil.
Longing to know you naked,
to teach you a lesson in bursting
in pyretic smithereens.
dear cataclysm of caliph eyelashes:
illegal khamsin of a fiancé to own
underneath my clothes:
this is my birch cartilage, my anatomy of meadow.
Savior sever the sudden
thunder of lust.
Every air I ever needed:
I'm your daily
Lazarus. Dare shred the family
shroud before it stills forever
the birthing of
furious choruses, adulterous commandments.
Now, love me hollow –
may I never be whole again –
like in the opposite of shelter –
from below plethora of grass –
now from above. When you're done,
love me in every way love
is akin to an atomic bomb.
We’ll live to tell:
shards of chard happiness
we’ve been.



a line, (a short blue one)


This heart is such a whore


This heart is such a whore
and a connoisseur
of all the numinous venues of Venus.
What a shame these venae amoris
running drought underneath the skin.
How well I know
budding and nothing
wrecking and everything.
Peach-split me open and you’ll find
all the grammar of the language of lust
and the punctuation of laughter
I am knowing murky stair-cases of desire
and in a rut.
Rainforest me.
Tidal wave me.
Manhattan me.
Hours around shores of gushing pleasure –
I want to fuck like poets do.



a line, (a short blue one)


Why Be Given a Body


Why be given a body to give
to one and only? Why halt a heart
from going embers from getting high?
I am translating and a taxi
skidding off into an Amsterdam canal.
I am on high heels and howling.
These eyes watching me till blood goes wine
are the color of mountains by night.
Now corporate suit of a man:
if you come will your heart drip all over me?
Every falling in lust is an ungrowing old.
Fighting the starflesh decay.



a line, (a short blue one)


Self-Portrait as the Eden


I taste of all the August
crescents. My lips teach you
a new way of sensing
this world. My skin is swathed in
constellation of peaches. My blood
is an atlas navigating you through
your lovely loneliness. I don’t know how to tell
love from vertigo from earthquake.
My words are homes of so many wreckages.
My vertebrae
are anemones are therefore
You love me because I am
the Eden
revisited by God.




a line, (a blue one)


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