by Jose Oseguera
Our clothes slid from our skin
As did sun’s shoulders into the sea.
Waist-deep and wrapped
By warmth of stars—
Floating through our tentacled fingers,
Between our collective thighs
As fireflies carousing night’s muggy breath—
I dipped my hand gently
As to not startle the droplets suckling
My skin cracks into its calm,
And took your womb like a water jug—
Bone lined with mud
Soft as silt,
Kilned by the afterday.
The black veil above us
Obscured the liquid sloshing
In and out of your clay.
I took a deep swig of it—
Thick, pungent clumps, briny in taste—
And continued to drink
Until the blood surrounding us,
Blotting from within you,
Had been consumed.
Swaying its contours again through water,
It glowed as fire,
Thirsty for star-nectar
That scuttled away in swarms.
The more light I captured with your lightness,
The darker the darkness
Surrounding my pupils.
When I placed the womb
Back in your body,
It turned night into day,
The water into milk,
And the stars into long ribbons
Of wild mountain honey,
Brown, bitter as it was golden, sweet.
You combed its glimmering as you unspooled
A golden thread from your navel—
Blonder than the blondest strand of your hair—
And crocheted a new soul with it,
One that would be his:
A new flame lit by a litany
Sung in Magyar and Nahuatl—
Sister tongues braided, burning as one.
Your solar plexus grew brighter and brighter—
As a red giant from a nebula—
Beneath your full moon breasts
Cratered thick of translucent milk veins
To nourish his defenselessness
Light from light,
True life from true life.
Nothing could’ve sparked his brilliance
As did the constellations
Swimming in our bloods—
Only light can make light—
Nothing would be able to extinguish it
As the stars in the sky
Which were no longer there—
But were black and white pictures
Taken millions of lifetimes before
When they lived and loved—
Young, beautiful, celestial—
Standing before each other
As they never would again,
Their echoes left behind like gossip
In the vast nothingness.
Jose Oseguera is an LA-based writer of poetry, short fiction and literary nonfiction. Having grown up in a diverse urban environment, Jose has always been interested in the people and places around him, and the stories that each of these has to share; those that often go untold.
His writing has been featured in Meat for Tea, Sky Island Journal, Jelly Bucket, The Inquisitive Eater, and The Main Street Rag. His work has also been nominated for the "Best of the Net" award and the "Pushcart Prize."