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.

-02.04.13

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