Thursday, February 7, 2013

I am not a flower.

I am not a flower,
certainly not yours. 
No slender stem,
delicate leaves, 
or fragile femininity.
If you crush me,
I do not please
you with fragrant and honeyed verses.
I sting.
Like nettles and thorns,
like salt rubbed in a wound--
yo no soy una flor.
Como una tormenta de viento
I tear things limb from limb,
y cuando bailo en el cielo,
yo saco tu aliento,
and leave you floundering on the shore.

While I still soar.


My first attempt at Spanish poetry, dedicated to Sandra Cisneros.