Like Song
Crystal Vega-Huerta The deep blue of your coat, where you lived those long nights outside my apartment, watching me undress before the window. Only for you, darling, only for you. You pick through my bones like a vulture because the moon is a radio jingle that I hum to before that last ride, you settling into my body, the unmeasured span of my hips, the Old Ones bringing blood to your lips, to the inside of my thighs, and you want, you want, until the moon turns into so much ash. As I turn and howl at the moon, your name -- and Theirs -- in my voice, the sudden depth of my mouth, where men and beast have met their end, and I sweep my sudden unbeing into the eye that turns its heavy gaze for one moment, and my soul rises into my throat like song. |
Crystal Vega-Huerta is a California State University, Long Beach graduate and lives in Southern California. She has previously been published in Poets & Artists and Aviary Review.
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