Eres el único hombre que dejaré que se siente detrás de mí. Even though you locked my hair in the tower and sealed the entrances with silver brick. Come with me to the past. The kitchen yawned in half. Silver and fake wood, I tore shoulder muscles burning ice. I stayed beyond the limit. He found me in the booths and we flirted about birds. He smelled different than the smokers I used to date. Loved buckwheat and baking fortune cookies, half-dipped in chocolate. The dough didn’t rise; he let me eat his mistakes in the fridge. Sometimes he’d hate me. Turned his back to tell the other chef about my mistakes. My love for him was hidden; a bundle of knots from heart to hands, I let him joke about apron strings and ice cream, but he took too much and sometimes love isn’t real.
Do you understand what I’m saying? Tú, alto y tranquilo por la mañana. Un esmoquin tan limpio que me mata. I’d tell you about the woman underneath all this, if I thought you’d listen. Cómo besarla fue como ver estrellas. You and I wouldn’t have been friends if we’d met any sooner. You’d never have loved me when I was wild. Gooseberry, my honeydew, you are passion fruit, you are a peach and for some reason I desire to have you in bed again. When we work, we are the best match. You are better than him. Soft, warm, so light on my tongue, your name used to be a swear word, después del perdón we are back to matched greens, beautiful and bright pyrazines. You’ve forgiven my knuckles and I’ve let go of my sanity. Darling, spring vegetable, my wine shine, still mineral, still sublime, dear cod, dear sole, lovely snapper, lock me inside the haddock of your heart. So, I loved her. So, I love you more. I pair best with spice and oil, cool-climate, I’ll never be your papaya again, but there’s a good chance of a disculpa before heat leaves the kitchen.
I know you hate l-words, like lágrima, limpieza, lamenter. What about lobsters, locusts, lizards. Por qué nó me llamas. To endure the past, we must return to leopards, lake trout, and lemon sharks. You must know I’m joking. Why not lynx, lunar moth, llegar, luchar, lustrar, qué tan dificíl es decirlo, pero ya sé la respuesta, te llevo al oceano, you take me to the cutting board, perdón. Te perdono por todo, nadie lo sabe, pero todas sabe, the enjoyment and deliciousness of the joke is the labor. For somebody I thought was my electric eel, my italics, divine speaker for young women experiencing loss, you sure are my favorite carnívoro, cariño, nunca he amado a nadie más, y nunca volveré a anyone since.
Thought I’d lost myself and would never recover, pero nosotros estamos tan devuelta, and you are back in the kitchen, starfruit and citrus sauce, lo siento but at least there is jackfruit, pulled tart, flambé, and all the pies have been carved by your hands. I follow you in the forest, in the dirt, I eat where you crawl, I know your footsteps, te perdono por todo, do I get the same grace? She is everyone’s type; she has mole poblano and sushi rice, my god, she is never sorry, no matter, I’ve never been a good girl, I don’t know the meaning of mint or consciousness. Despite everything, I still hope you’ll one day put your head in my lap. I imagine us on her couch. You let me touch your face. Cariño, miel, afecto, amor. Vida lobo, pasión, y nada mas, I did not lie, you are still mi querido, mi sangre, lemon wedge, we can all see your hunger, why do you take such delight in being mentiroso? For the first time I’m back. leave me and it will be the last. A touch of amber is maybe just what we need. Before me are many options but I only want you to look my way. My dear, you don’t know what it’s like to die back here. For a long time, we hold hands. It takes her an hour to say grace. Perdón, I’m looking at your face. I miss when I’d write to beg. Stitch your misericordia and merced into the bed, don’t mind giving up mis manos, confesión: I didn’t lie; you’re still the most important space on my body. between finger and thumb, tongue and teeth, tendons and ribs, please help me. Please forgive me. Please don’t leave without letting me out.
Todavia, después de todo ese tiempo? Buenas noches, libérame from el Verano. Libérame from stories of white wolves and disappearing cow pastures. When I jumped into the semi-frozen lake, I saw you as a lime green fish. Around the perimeter were leaves I’ve never eaten before. The tallest pines I’ve ever swam beneath. In evening, I would drink hot chocolate with a boy who smelled like autumn. He told me stories about my exes, and I told him stories about you. I’d tried to die the month before. I never told you. I wonder what you would have done. What you could have done, if anything. We are getting too close to what I need to say to you. Entonces, convirtámonos en pequeños loros azules. Te amo demasiado. Your wings are soft and the lack of wind is difficult. Sometimes I bang my head into the wall, which is a nightmare because my skull is full of tiny flowers and seeds. We can never change the narrative. I can break everything with my beak, including the rules. Your rooms. The past. Your heart. ¿Recuerdas cuando confundiste cuarto y corazón? You are my alula. I am nothing but useless, come summer or Winter. Empty, so much so it scares me. Even though I am useless, I can still write. Strike. You know what they say. Por favor. Debes transformar tu vida.
Sam Moe is the author of nine books. Her most recent poetry collection, RED HALCYON, is forthcoming from Querencia Press. Her debut short story collection, I MIGHT TRUST YOU, is out from Experiments in Fiction (2025). She has attended the Sewanee Writers’ Conference and received fellowships from the Longleaf Writer’s conference and the Key West Literary Seminar. Sam has also attended residencies at The Writers’ Colony at Dairy Hollow, VCCA, and Château d’Orquevau.