So you might not know this yet, but writer Tawni Waters has a volume of poetry in the works. Its going to be published by none other than Burlesque Press. This is a little sample from her upcoming book, and we’ll be featuring a few of these over the coming weeks in advance of publication. Because we like to, you know, whet your whistle….
The Mexican rain rides bolts of blue lightning
dismounting on the hot, cracked ground that is so
like the sound of your voice. I am here,
in the land of Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo
riding bolts of this love, so thick it can only
be rendered in paint or blood. She said
“painters paint, weavers weave, and Frida
Diegos,” making him into The Verb. For me,
you are The Verb, my reason to breathe. Today,
in the jardin, when the swelling sun and the scent
of gardenias left me dizzy, the only thing I could think
was, I wish I could give this moment to you, wrap it up
in corn husks like a tamale and deliver
it to you on a silver plate. Here,
churches swallow saint’s bones.
They tuck skulls away in their dark mouths, in the walls,
in the floors. Mary Magdalene’s pitted tibia soaks up
the colors of the stained glass glinting in the setting sun.
My bones are buried in the church of you.