The Myth of Safety
This is not an industry and you are not a product. This is a triangle breathing.
Chessa means peace. Bianca means peace. Irene Frieda Godfrey and Inga mean peace. Wilfred means desiring peace. Friedhelm means peace helmet. Hedwyn means far peace.
When I say Lucy Lucy—lightlightlight—I mean a nest that’s dark. I mean Death: Don’t.
The pulped stuff of a human who loves. Cruciform. All of it.
When I say Lou I mean translated. I mean who did I think I was.
I woke up dead. I had not been. Often so alive. Lost all that flesh in the night. I asked for November, for May. I began to want what’s plain.
I was shaking off the bed. But you were in my arms. The shaking was convulsing. But you were in my arms. Scared that I would drop you, still you are in my arms. I had no use for the crook of them. I do.
This is who did I think I was. This is Moses had to drape his face. This is my face erased.
Shut up British Petroleum. Shut up a little commerce. Shut up wanters. What could you want. This is Moses, draped. This is my dying face.
Shut up real vampires. Shut up internet. Here comes a moose like eight centuries walking.
With this poem, and with gratitude and appreciation, we bring our week of featuring Mia Alvarado to a close. Thank you Mia, thank you poetry, welcome back July. — AS