Two Poems

Abstract

COVER FEATURE SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO | POEMS Two Poems by Raquel Salas Rivera (note for a friend who wants to commit suicide after the hurricane) no one teaches us to accept death because death, that canned death, stays empty inside: the great hole of fuck it that wants to devour us. no one explains how we can become part of the impossible new world that is tomorrow, or how we are supposed to avoid falling into the perfect and permanent under-eye circle we call facing the day. mana, how not to understand? that is the question i avoid with the organizational fervor of a rescue team that never arrives, but i’ll tell you this: desire isn’t always followed by death. sometimes i run into you in the street and you shine like an orb or a solar lamp, but you are still worth more than all the generators (in case you haven’t been told a thousand times). y other times, without tilde, i.i.i. other times, your words reach me like a fundraiser that explodes and temporalizes truth, like an espachurrao (squashed? flattened? spread?) aguacate on the sidewalk, green-gray from so much loving. we first have to find better answers than these automatic things. i don’t say this to add responsibilities, but rather so that you know, sister, that the attempted murder comes from within, like the last refuge of a cowardly colonialism. come here and i’ll give you food and shelter while i have it, que te añoño, will (cuddle? spoil? hold and rock and sing?) you, and will duplicate the hugs. i can’t heal the fathomless , but what kind of world would this be without you. what kind of world is this that harasses you. without rescue, let’s speak of the future. not as realists, not as visionaries, let’s speak of the future because we will find it in a moth-eaten rug, in the tea of the drunken tree, in the buenos días, there is coffee of a confused and sincere embrace. we have a bed and we remember. yours forever, raquel 2 in the river i left my wallet in the river the keys in the river my door in the river a body uncounted in the mud a river Editorial note: The first poem is from while they sleep (under the bed is another country) (Birds, 2019). The second poem is from lo terciario / the tertiary (2nd ed., Noemi Press, 2019). A Puerto Rican poet, translator, and editor, Raquel Salas Rivera (b. 1985, Mayagüez) is the author of five full-length poetry books. Their honors include being named the 2018–19 Poet Laureate of Philadelphia and receiving the New Voices Award from Puerto Rico’s Festival de la Palabra, the Lambda Literary Award for Transgender Poetry, and the Ambroggio Prize. Their sixth book, antes que isla es volcán / before island is volcano, is forthcoming They hold a PhD from the University of Pennsylvania and now write and teach in Puerto Rico. left Damaris Cruz, Fuego Camina Conmigo, @damalola / Courtesy of the artist 60 WLT AUTUMN 2020 PHOTO: ARIADNA ROJAS ...