Cracked Photographs

I looked at our old pictures and nearly fell in love again,

A whirlwind of butterflies so bittersweet—oh the pain.

I guess all that I dreamt of was a waste and in vain.

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I Needed the Light

Asteroids are falling into my atmosphere, their burning traces, crystal prisms.

They dig deep into my chest, opening spaces where perhaps leaves will grow after we sow this burned soil.

Flutters of color like butterfly wings whispering pieces of song that sirens can nice upon a time would sing.

Maybe these leaves will be blown to the water when the gusts pick up as none of this matters.

Butterfly to Fish to Stone

Every moment that I’ve ever been laid low I end up listening to songs that remind me to hold on.

This girl walked into the ocean prepared to never come out. She was ready to become a fish because at least that way she could choose to swim in solitude. On land she was a butterfly with broken wings, frequently caught and held hostage in cages fabricated of fingers and human flesh on bones. Her wing colors used to be green, they represented esperanza. With every cage she became more muted until she lost that faith and the velvet went away from her wings. Now gray, like the color of dark and rainy skies she flew soul-first into the freezing water. Her wings broke away and she confined herself to her newly formed gills. As a fish she was olive green like the bucks she used to give to indulge in the gifts of life. Those very same gifts led to peace on the horizon where she could fly towards the colorful sky in the sunset and where she could rise with the sun.

Always rising and falling. The sun etched its tattoo on her skin.

Now she’s a bottom dweller and she just wants to swim with the current but the fishermen keep trying to catch her. Will she ever live again? They call her home because she provides sustenance when in reality she only wants to swim away but she can’t. Her skeleton is starting to hurt and her spine is becoming frail from the gravity pushing her down.

She wakes up in a pool of metal, iron and steel, that keep her pinned down. The scales have tipped and not in her favor. The bills grow larger as if they had a life of their own. In her throat form stones pushing down into her bleeding heart and encasing it in their harshness. She used to be green, she dreamt of being orange, but now she’s all hues of gray.

The butterfly is a distant memory.

Asymmetrical Thoughts of Nature

A strand of seaweed stranded on crashing waves. The water’s surface reflecting the sun’s place.

I’m breathing the salty taste,

Of ocean water in a daze.
In one moment I’m inept

At making sense of thoughts that I have kept,

Hidden and swept,

Under imaginary rugs that inside my mind I have left.
A purple butterfly glides over the creek.

The power of its wings tend to seek,

Destinations that can beat,

The spirit of its journey into the waters’ deep.
The tall grass is now swaying.

I am at the ledge, looking, sitting,

At the fish in water that keep jumping,

To awaken me and calm the thumping.
Healing heart and head.

Rooting Processes and Bearing Gifts

I take off my shoes so my feet will shoot out roots that will burrow into the ground and help me grow upwards while building thicker skin. The curves of my body will curve like the avocado trees or the willow tree. Perhaps I’ll twist upward like a long succulent underneath the sun blooming at every centimeter. When my petals fall I will grow new plants and flowers or trees. As I bear the buds of my flowers or fruits I will give off a sweet aroma enticing the butterflies to fly through my leaves. All the while my feet will hold me down as the act of living pushes me upward towards space and inward towards the core. I can find my nutrients in each place and I will form the middle-world. This world will be surrounded by large yellow butterflies and small blue ones against gray and cloudy skies with a dollop of sunshine. I will foster symbiotic relationships with the orchids that will grow on my trunk or that hang close to me. I could also be a sour orange tree or a blade of grass, but as I am I shall remain holding back the ground and holding up the sky. I let middle-world breathe.

Extreme Measures

“I know there are parts of us missing, but we can go slow.” He said to her as if he were drawing a caged animal out. [Hesitance]

———–

Back at the institution students congregated in the evenings to drink and smoke and dance until their sweat left them feeling light. Audible laughter always ensued and some high pitched shrieks of girls flirting with other girls or boys. At that moment they donned their young adult outfits and removed their scholarly masks. One young lady in particular was headed towards the science building where she prepared to undergo a surgical procedure that would make her jumbled up puzzle pieces fit with those of a young man currently undergoing the same process.

They had agreed upon this surgery that would remove all the gory pieces of them that brought struggle and hatred into the hearts of the other. It was some recommendation from a friend that informed the young man that it would solve both of their problems—those of his and his lady—never mind that it was highly experimental. The cogs in their systems just didn’t fit like they initially did. Or maybe they never were oiled enough, so they screeched upon colliding while simultaneously wearing their bones down. Even in surgery they would inflict pain upon one another, yet it felt as if they were inseparable.

Outside the cold, crystal building where machines whirred and white gauze filled their insides, danced their peers. They moved so freely like heated wax upon its combustion through the wick as a medium. The sky was so black and no clouds were seen; yet stars illuminated the wreaths that the girls wore on their heads as they inhaled smoke into their lungs. Her friends danced in circles around each other as they moved through the campus. The sterile waiting rooms were empty in the science building.

His procedure let up first and he waiting in his hall of residence for her to finish hers. The white gauze was stained with red all over the sides of his abdomen and on his arms. His hair was thick and black as he moved his hand around his forehead feeling light-headed and impatient for her. He wanted her.

“He’s in the common bathroom and he told me to let you know you could just go in” his friend told her as she slowly made her way across the gray floors. She was feeling nervous, but she couldn’t feel the butterflies inside her stomach. She was on too many pills that medicated the pain leftover from the procedure. Her head was hazy as she opened the door to the bathroom with her right hand—the non-dominant one.

He saw her and smiled, his body felt hot and he felt at peace that they both made it through the procedure. His loins were on fire as he walked towards her and placed his arms on her waist. A kiss brings forth frothy waves of ecstasy through both their bodies. Now that they both had their guts removed through said surgical procedure, they were able to keep their temper in check and the heat that coursed through their body was different. Their nerves were cinnamon candles burning as lava flowed through their veins. Their hearts thumped as if animals in the wild were stampeding across them. She wanted him too, and badly. He turned the water for the shower on and slowly took off the laces of her shirt. She carefully pulled his over his chest and head, exposing his healing body. Their procedures extended to the most secretive of body pieces.

“I know there are parts of us missing, but we can go slow.” He said to her as if he were drawing a caged animal out. [Hesitance] Their naked bodies firmly touched, the hormones swimming through their bodies hid the pain. She was afraid the stitches would all come out and that they’d bathe each other in blood. A silky feeling went through their united souls as they penetrated each other’s fears and desires with the reality of what they had just done. Euphoria was a tingling sensation they experienced together upon release.

They separated with the reality that taking out parts of themselves to fill each other up with those of the other was their satisfaction. Outside underneath the evening sky the young men and young ladies moved in tandem, individually whole.

The Mango Collection Continues to Live in Fruit Bowls and Flowers

The mangos are ripe for falling off the trees—their beautiful range of coloration is from deep purple to green, then yellow, then ripe red. They’re comrades of the salty wind blowing through the long, pointed green leaves. That same wind wafts the scent of salt and pulpy sweetness begging for you to sink your teeth into it. Now the wind has brought forth the scent of sour oranges, lemony and citrus-like, yet sweet. The sour oranges lie in waiting for full maturity; they have almost met their goal as they prepare for their descent from its branches. The avocados wait, unready to meet the standards of maturity. They have much yet to grow. In September, their fragility will be its all-encompassing factor as our meals become laden with the soft feel of cool avocado pieces. The guavas are also ready, their flowers in full bloom as its fruit screams to be picked lest it rot on the branch and fall. The combination of fruits and moist salty air is refreshing to bones that saw winter for much too long in the plains of Iowan fields. Florida is a heaven on Earth waiting to bring forth all of its produce. My home is finally becoming familiar to me once again with every sway of the palm fronds reminding me of the sound of waves of a warm and clear blue beach.

We don’t need to reach up to the trees, their fruits will fall. We just need to stoop low as we bow in gratitude for the fruits of their labor. Colorful butterflies should be thanked as well, for filling up the scene with their random beauty. I will bow as frequently as I should until the sky stops mirroring the color of the ocean, the mangoes, the butterflies, the sour oranges, and the baby avocadoes. The sun will be the color of strawberries when the sun makes its last descent into the trees and sea. My body feels airy, as if it were preparing to fly alongside the butterflies frequenting my small little piece of heaven. Just wait until the jasmine blooms and the coconuts begin to fall. The orchids have already graced us with their satiny presence.