Gustavo Barahona-López


Once,       you broke my earth                  open.
Brought down my constellations                   with a slingshot,
Planted seeds in              the nape of my neck,
Poured spirit              down my throat.

With you,                      I sing new stars into being.
I nourish saplings into              forests spanning my back.
I drink of you      like a communion.
With me, you let your fire burn incandescent.

You blast dams leaving nascent        waterfalls in your wake.
You remember you are enough.
Once, you rip me open.
You make me roll up my skin            (scars and all)

Like the poster            for a movie you would never
Watch.                        You make me leave            myself behind
Like a carcass scavenged clean by your need
Of me.            Do you love me enough not to

      Kill me?             Is that your way of letting go?
I tear you to shreds once
Maybe twice            or three times.             I watch
You through the prism of     my own cuts.    Resist

The urge                     to collect your ribbons             and make you
Whole again.          I tell you your smile                       is the cruelest
Of promises.            I berate you             with my silence.
But once I speak,               I mend us.               Or maybe

You do the mending           this time.             Out of this thread
We make our specters.