By Shatara Liora
Watching the shadow of a woman ride a white horse into mountains without tops There is a tiny girl twirling inside my jewelry box, her arms are spread out as if happiness in a woman spreads out that way spreads out like our holy bread amen I am underneath a boy who’s heavy cross necklace swings into my forehead with each careful thrust. His beautiful Cadillac parked outside waits for nothing, has a sleeping moth in its tailpipe I think of my dead foremothers watching me or putting away my laundry after she is done riding that horse, her shadow aflame while my moans land on the textured walls. I would be ashamed, but I am too pulled apart to care. I am spreading my arms into the night and into the day, an alpine swift in the steel blue light coming into the window in the morning. I am seeing you again on that white horse, calling out to no one in particular I water my magnolias, call in sick at dinner that night the white horse floats through my window, becomes a falling sliver of silk, lands on my lap and becomes a memory, a combusted disillusion spreading, waiting for me to become a woman that can still find wisdom in dimly lit crevices, can move through the thick of it, the tar of it, and still rest my face in its coarse hands when he returns that night, I wait in silence wine stained teeth, aching he eyes the side of my face puts his thick warm tongue in my ear a moth hums in the tailpipe of his cadillac we both wait for nothing.
About the author:
Shatara Liora is a poet, writer, visual artist, and licensed therapist by trade. She has been published in Berkeley Poetry Review, Rigorous Literary Magazine, Black Girl In Om and has been featured in Nailed Magazine. She has also served as poetry editor for Qu Literary Magazine and has two indie poetry collections. In her spare time, she enjoys art galleries, museums, travel, and all things vintage. Twitter, Instagram and Facebook: @shataraliora Website: http://www.shataraliora.com
Header photo by José Ignacio García Zajaczkowski on Unsplash