Joshua Jennifer Espinoza
POETRY IS PAINFUL
Poetry is painful and
it’s the only way I know how
to show my love to the world
when the gaze is like a knife
when even the breathing cuts
and the wind
makes love to the
wounds
when there is laughter
and healing, joy
in the tiny spaces
we carve for ourselves
and each other
when there is no greater peace
than being lonely together
draped in our words
lapping up the moment
when the light still remains
to show us some kind of answer
in the mixing of our blood.
CRYING RITUAL
I put myself back inside my body.
I don’t need to stretch out to some
great length if I want to live.
All I have to do is be. Wash my hair
once a week. Leave the house
every so often. Dance in dark rooms
full of gorgeous gays. These are the
dreams I hold on to while the
storm clouds loom above and say
to hell with me, all my enormous
emotions, the gathered world
that seeps out when I feel
around anything for too long.
It’s a wondrous sensation, to let
go of yourself and melt into
the scenery. To close both eyes
and let everything’s mess become
you. It’s almost like being born again
if only such a thing were possible.
