Home Poetry 21.


by Stephanie Alfaia

First, I cursed the heavens.
No, first I asked Queen Mab why I couldn’t hear my own heartbeat.
No, first there was laughter in the dark.
No, first solitude introduced me as her best friend.
No, first I held my hand above the blaze and fell in love with its warmth.
No, first my eyes were dry.
No, first there was purpose again.
No, first I learned to run away.
No, first tequila replaced blood in my veins.
No, first I felt a sharp pain and my bones went numb.
No, first my uncle said “it doesn’t matter the bugs will get to her anyway.”
No, first there wasn’t enough time but there never is.
No, first tell me how Brazilian funerals work.
No, first they forgot the tombstone.
No, first people touching me.
No, first her nails weren’t painted red.
No, first the flowers were all wrong.
No, first her body was faceless.
No, first the clear bag with a rose quartz, pearl earrings, and a wooden cross.
No, first the reality to face the struggle.
No, first my universe burst into flames and the plane departed.
No, first I threaten the airline rep.
No, first the corners of my lips found the courage to stretch into a smile.
No, first there was a blackout and the floor was soft.
No, first tears cascaded and clung to my sore cheeks.
No, first a cigarette in my hand and my mother screaming.
No, first I thought my Grandmother was immortal.
No, first there was cancer.

You may also like

Leave a Comment