Poem of the Week selected by Thomas Fucaloro:
We are living in a time where our voice is of the utmost importance, but because of our current national crisis, your voice can feel a bit stifled. You’re somewhere in your own body but can’t seem to make a sound. Nicole Arocho Hernández’s poem “Where we build irresolute temples without instructions”, explores the evolution of words/feelings and how they get stuck in the temple of your throat. Now why do they get stuck? Well, Nicole Arocho Hernández has provided the outline, it is up to the reader to color those shapes in for themselves. You will notice throughout this poem you will see the word, “We” scattered across the page. In these times, we all seem to be scattered across the page, looking for someone or some poem to bring us together. I think this is one of those poems.
Poem of the Week
Nicole Arocho Hernández
Where we build irresolute temples without instructions
I open my mouth and
nothing comes out. My
vocal chords have become flowers,
my anger a fragrant muse for
my becomings. I
am not soft. My throat is a
thorny voyage to shores
not even I dare land on. Not yet.
Not until I have gathered
machetes that will help me
cut the stabbings, one by one. We
will lump them into a forested pile. We
will build a raft and submerge ourselves in
the treachery of perfumed understanding. We
will make it to the sand and wish we didn’t know how to swim. We
will grow gills and breathe the toxicity out of this water.
And the next one. And the next one. And the next one.
Our bodies will take the shape of monsters, while our hearts
will live in simmering crescendos of “ayudé a alguien más, ahora
quién me ayuda a salir de aquí.” In this decaying paradise, I
will not perish. The vines shall always come for us, lifelines to
the original bloom. Cuando termine la odisea, seremos dioses,
vinagre y azúcar, rojxs y divinxs. We will realize then, as we take the last climb,
the divine
had been lodged
in the palate
this entire time.
***
Nicole Arocho Hernández is a Puerto Rican poet. She will attend the MFA program at ASU in the fall. Twitter: @nicolearocho
Honorable Mention
Karina G-Lopez
Before the Pandemic
We now appreciate the air
The simple way we inhale and exhale without a thought
We notice our hands more
The shape of our fingers and the lines in our palms
We are more in tuned with our natural responses and reflexes
A self-realization
We now question our existence and our experiences
There has been a shift in the atmosphere
Our world’s view is magnified
We now sing with the birds
And they sing about the sun and their freedom
These days, we are limited and confined
What was once bothersome is now missed
We have traded our:
Meanness for masks
Grouchiness for latex gloves and
Bitterness in search for a blessing
We have replaced:
Our pettiness with patience
Rudeness with respect and
Disgruntlement for appreciation
We breath in solidarity
Our selfies are now self-care reposts and remedies
Our material desires no longer needed
Where are you going tonight?
We have been seeking solutions to remain sane
We remembered how to pray
Remembered how to meditate
Remembered to be kind
We have come to realize that our daily consumptions are temporary
So are our long hour shifts, short vacations
The work, eat, buy, then bye mentality, gone
We fast more, no time for cliques, silos and circles
Everyone ‘s in their corner, this is nothing new
We will become a chapter in a history book in the years to come
And those generations wouldn’t be able to relate
Just as we were unable to
Before the pandemic
***
Karina G-Lopez is a writer, poet, actor, and educator. She is part of the “Live Big Girl” cast as a writer, actor, and marketer. “Live Big Girl” is a poetic play that sold out at the National Black Theater, BAAD Theater, and The Tank Theater. www.kglopez.com
Honorable Mention
Jessica “Morningstar” Kratz
Soap, Personified
I wish I could
spread
warmth and kindness
with gentle hands,
soft cloth, and clean water
turning love into lather,
into laughter,
(into language)
releasing surface tension
washing away
dirt, hurt,
and pain,
revealing more
of you
***
Jessica “Morningstar” Kratz is a Staten Island poet whose work has been published in Antiverse, In Other Words, post(BLANK), Unspoken Word, and We Carry Us.
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