POETRY
HOW WE SURVIVE
by Erika M. Martínez, March 22, 2020
a mother soothes a newborn
in the frame of a window
his cries inaudible through the pane
like silent wind
still in the weeps of willows
no one can pass the threshold
no stranger, nor friend
this woman confined
in the evening--
the so-called witching hour
no relief to offer from a 6-foot distance
no way to tender
her the gift
of crisp air fragrant with jasmine
or the warble of robins in the redwoods
this is how we survive
through our own necessary
walks at dusk
alone in the Glen
by Erika M. Martínez, March 22, 2020
a mother soothes a newborn
in the frame of a window
his cries inaudible through the pane
like silent wind
still in the weeps of willows
no one can pass the threshold
no stranger, nor friend
this woman confined
in the evening--
the so-called witching hour
no relief to offer from a 6-foot distance
no way to tender
her the gift
of crisp air fragrant with jasmine
or the warble of robins in the redwoods
this is how we survive
through our own necessary
walks at dusk
alone in the Glen
Artwork by Lemny Pérez
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RED
by Erika M. Martinez (This poem originally appeared in MUTHA Magazine on March 18, 2014) blood moon new slim line dark maroon drools from my womb connecting vulva to pooled water below three menstrual decades elapsed unable to stuff minutes or months under the folds of my breasts as i wait, stare between thighs i want to contain clots with cupped hands since earth welcomed me with finite time to give life palms opened to say, look, this scares me am i losing pieces of myself? how do you bleed? perhaps this is the end of choice between two possible regrets |
Artwork by Lemny Pérez
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PURPLE
by Erika Martinez (This poem originally appeared in MUTHA Magazine on March 18, 2014) your little spirit taunts would it help to know we would have welcomed you with purple brought you home to bouquets of hydrangeas pain is a violet bassoon bellowing alone to a concert hall filled with ghosts hope bumps bruises and ice can only numb this body black and blued as i imagine you with curls gathered in lilac ribbons you running through a field of lavender you indulging in a bowl of blueberries you as i imagine you |
Artwork by Lemny Pérez
|
ORANGE
by Erika Martinez (This poem originally appeared in MUTHA Magazine on March 18, 2014) biting winds slice through my nothingness through this tree-lined street littered with maple leaves jack-o’-lanterns heckle me from window sills from thresholds and crooked stoops october can only be the month when we first conceived i tested positive the day i dressed myself in carrot-colored skinny jeans and paisley then explored sonoma valley vineyards where canopy foliage like never-ending orange streamers unrolled over the landscape it’s been a year since then a baby mesmerizes me feeding himself cubes of squash with his pudgy fingers his mother thrusts him into my arms as if contact with his flesh could pull me from murky currents of loss but sorrow inundates with rapid reminders of what will never be as friends flaunt mother-daughter snapshots in pumpkin patches i comfort myself with bundles of marigolds carnelian stones in my pocket and at the end of a sleepless night i look for mars in the sky just before dawn |