from “Xibalba [Outside the water sings]”
Outside the water sings
its tortuous note,
devoid of the parrot,
devoid of the quetzal.
A song without ears,
a dry silk wrapped around the throat,
neither warm nor cold
but a vacillation between the two.
A hammer swinging
through the aether of the flesh,
the mind’s red line.
Tonight a part of me shivers, liking it,
my whole body in one place,
where steel drags along.
I wonder if the body wants more
to open or to shut.
Copyright © 2019 by Stephanie Adams-Santos. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 27, 2019, by the Academy of American Poets.