i remember
body parts
skin, stubbly
rough, never soft
sweat
always there
a slip unkind
my fingertips could never quite
grab on
i remember
stomach, stretched
round, pulsing
smell of beer
steak
cologne I loved
faded
bitter
never seemed to
hang on
to these
pressed lips
sloppy mouths
vodka, whiskey
smell of rum
the only way
to feel you
i remember
i felt us shift
months of slipping
we fell and flew
together
asleep
the entire time
we never did
grab on.
my poems don’t rhyme anymore
they fall and they rise
or they keep falling
or keep rising
they twist your mouth
into uncomfortable shapes
they are awkward
unkind, they make sense
only to me
but still i wrap them
in myself
and gift them to you
the one with bright eyes
squinting in wonder
asking which words
which sounds
fit together
when do you pause
when can your tongue rest
you do not know
but still
here you are
my voice holds many tongues
but mostly the taste of iron
as english cuts my mouth
crashes into my molars
in jagged syllables
when i come home
i liberate my lips with spanish lullabies
that glide along my cheeks
and in between my legs
i am a bridge between two worlds
no — i am
the universe
a six sentence story
It all started on a day like today. I decided to start a story with “It all started.” These three words, made of gunpowder to an unplanned rushed story, hold more potential than talent. When words refuse to lend themselves I write in a panic “It all started when my heart stopped working” or “It all started when he told me his sister died.” Yesterday told me to write “It all started when it never started at all.” Today, however, started like never before, on the cusp of tomorrow ending.
-tcm
TIFFANY MARTÍNEZ 