Hottest June
rooftopping myself into the arms of the hottest June
Seattle can give I remind myself that I’m a seed
of desert drought my first language other landscaped
languages may thrill but will remain
foreign wearing my body bold I try to stop
myself from giving it
the side-eye when there is no one to witness my slip of a dress and
where my arms stretch into marks lines mapping where
I’m coming from and going I study
my scarred topography roughed bumped skin and fat each line
a curve manifesting me visible I’m reminded
of my adolescent ache for dissipation no whiteness—
I slathered my grainy arms with doctor prescribed chemicals
stayed out of the sun and waited for my skin to peel
an unspooling of
thread into momentary ocean
but between burning and
unraveling of
scars
gathered compliments for my new delicate dermis
this here is always uneasy terrain
a whipped up regret the family nose too thick for desirability
that teenage mirror would not reveal the good side of bone
or fat or the brown of this expanse I call body
each day since is worked reflection a tending to my own geography—
a sharp bloom of prickly spine.
Copyright © 2019 by Casandra López. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on November 25, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.