Mary Margaret Alvarado: The Myth of Safety

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.

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

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