I remember how you dug through the trash bin for remains of your neck how you cried as you puzzled your smiling head back onto your body How I thought it’s just a picture you took weeks ago I still remember that woman my child’s game of cut & paste dismembered creaseless face mesquite hair that playful pose
2
Because at your age it is a feat you announce that your body has smeared a heavy smog of red on your underwear
3
We sit by a deer-horn cactus watch slivers of the moon unknit Queen of the Night buds at the seam
I tell you they only bloom once a year petals under the moon tonight will be dry crescents under the cactus tomorrow
you swear this is the second time they bloom this summer
say they’ll bloom again
A neck crooks toward the fullness of the moon extends its limbs in one heavy sigh
103 The Paris-American
Nayelly Barrios is a Rio Grande Valley native. Her work has appeared in Beloit Poetry Journal, Puerto del Sol, and DIAGRAM. She has been featured as the LoWriter of the Week on Poet Juan Felipe Herrera's website and is a recent participant of the Squaw Valley Community of Writers. She is a founding editor of Ostrich Review.