Untitled #12

You carve out birds from my waist,
spill, not blood but, embryonic fluids
into the descending sky, and earth
receives damaged plumage in reprisal.

No father will greet us at the door
in such damaged condition, the porch-
light will switch off as water seeps
into those red canvas sneakers.

You were never hungry enough,
undertones were colored indigo hues,
seconds spin around your face,
cravings emanate in song phrases.

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Untitled #11

I laugh at her behind my teeth
keys slide across the desk,
a discordant sound

she pulls and push
her complaints for pity
in long vowel accordance

thin veneers of polished bones
scrape the inside of the cheek

a gravel voice obscured on deaf ears

cut fingers leave blood splatter lines across the door

a dead mouse dies beneath a chair
and I wait for someone from building and grounds
to remove the corpse.

we have lost our religion
beneath our untied shoes
and under our desks.

there is willful ignorance
drowning on the borders
between life and death.

All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

Climbing Shrub

The sun has swept
through the sky clearing
a path for a full moon,
the scent of night jasmine,
white moths flutter around
the bare light bulb. Smoke
snakes away from a cigarette
and your exhale is drawn out
catching my attention
from the corner of my eye
as if you have something
on your mind, ready to say
as you change your mind
yet again. Your somber
mood dampens the chill
night air, I hold my breath,
wait for the impulse
to pass. You exhale,
smoke coats your clothes
and all I can do is draw
close, inhale, and prepare
myself for roaming words
that swirl in circles, feet
planted on the stairwell
to steady the vertigo
as your hollow life
craves much more
than what the night sky
and its stars has to offer.


All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.