Posts Tagged ‘Valentina Cano’

An Observation
Forgiveness is a sealed mouth to him.
It is punched and stained with red,
a stamp of negligence creasing its center.
He weaves in front of it,
dancing to see it smile.
-Valentina Cano

In Hell, with You

I’m sitting,

rewinding and fast-forwarding frowns

and slowly clenching eyelids.

My heart tattoos my chest

until only bruises clothe it.

But there is nothing I can do

from this side of the screen,

no carpet I can brush down

so the folds don’t trip you anymore.

I am as caged as you,

roaring at my own head.

-Valentina Cano

 

Suffocation

My thoughts weave a net around me.

One full of spaces and air pockets,

all feigning safety.

Things I’d like to forget

shake hands like new fiends.

Join teams.

Color code.

And I sit here,

hands holding up a head turning to stone,

wanting to jump off, leap way,

and instead, caught.

Over and over.

Limbs tangled in words.

-Valentina Cano

 

Ouroboros

Repetition is a face,

a movement like a sparrow’s shoulder blade

shifting in flight,

the color of your hair (screaming sunset).

But I know that it is pointless,

checking off one twitch,

one syllable raised like an exclamation point

over your head.

No matter how many times I rip

your words apart, I will never find

the sounds I want.

I’ll just keep ripping and ripping.

Endless loops of nothing.

-Valentina Cano

A Ballroom Scene

You saw a woman

with a nest of spiders in her eyes,

each knitting away a future

that would not come to pass.

Yes, she was a lovely chandelier,

dangling from a few phrases,

flinging light out to the tiles.

But she was just glass.

Brittle.

A reflective surface

as hollow as an echo.

-Valentina Cano

Some Kind of Orpheus

Leaving you behind

has become the only option.

And no option at all.

I’ve dug into the underworld itself

for the key that would spring

that lock of memory open,

but it’s lost,

drowned metal in that long,

black river

you’ve ripped open between us.

-Valentina Cano

The Woman at the Station

She trusted herself like a chain

would trust a squeaky link,

with a heavy dose

of glittering cynicism.

One second of a turned eye

and it would all topple down,

slinking away like snake shed.

She listened to her voice

with knitting needles in her hands,

drawing them up and down

in a net of mistrust.

-Valentina Cano