Four Poems by Angelica Esquivel

we were never born

we were never born, a fellow

c-section baby tells me, we were

cut out of our mothers. she laughs

because it’s sci-fi body horror

and we love sci-fi body

horror because our lives

are sci-fi body horror

and what choice do we have?

a despot follows and unfollows

us on Twitter. we play hide and

seek in a park built over a dump

built over a paradise in a school

night when i’m selectively mute

and tracing my life along

a sacred river of trash. my fellow

c-section baby loves rivers,

especially those subterranean

ones that hide like feathered serpents,

slickened by oil and water

and waste. she tells me

we once worshipped every

creature, and everything

was creature. we were once

worthy of worship ourselves.

Latinas are fiery, spicy, hot

After spritzing ourselves with perfume,

we self-immolate to become the sun.

At least we smell sweet, at least

you want to fuck us while we burn.

in my beaded saguaro earrings

& patterned tunic, w/ my hair lovingly braided & my feet planted on the earth—to be a sacred creature recognizing other sacred creatures. you & i will not turn away from living. we were in the longest hurt—reality a collection of symptoms, life a set of shallow breaths—but now, we are here for pleasure.

This Is the Place Where Spirits Get Eaten

When she says

Release your anger

I think she means

Lie to yourself

Or

Give up

But now I see

She means to let go

At least

For a moment

So your heart

Doesn’t burn out

Create a cocoon

World

Real or imagined

Free of those

Who would hurt you

And take refuge