by Maria S. Picone
In my mouth grows a seed
uncurls from the lengua
to a green mariposa is a flying
is a flight fleet flitting flutter
of a nutter mutterer secret stutt er er
In my heart bass rides low
bump n grind 4/4 time slow tempo
all let go on my sternun’s say-so
rock on that aquatic megamachine
blow the pipes toot a horn release a song
like a clenched fist straight from the shoulder
neither bold nor old
but getting older and bolder
dance dance pow like it’s the only solution
dance dance wow until the next revolution
carry on like a soldier
soldado give the dedo change it now to 1. 2. 3: say again now
One, Two, Three. Not a waltz just a straight melody
creep along like a song of the sea cut into me
one two three deep into me
rises the essence of thought if you care or not
use a snare or not all’s not for nought In my veins rushes ink
from a simpler time when poems used to rhyme
when ‘The Bells’ did chime breaking meter’s a crime
c’mon now and run the meter up non-stop!
needle on the gauge needle on the gauge oscillating needle on the 1 2 3 4
[music escalates
mic drop]
In my mouth
grows a seed into a constitution In my thoughts
thrives a weed plastic solution I take these dedos and I give
a solid yank put blood in the tank find ways to thank
find palabras there I learned somewhere pump that beat
to the street stomp along with my feet ¡basta ya! the heat
then Italian neat stir the salt with the wheat
splatter sauce on my chest mix in the rest
whatever I can’t express
I’ll write as rest
Maria S. Picone has been published in Ice Floe Press, Moonchild Magazine, and Whale Road Review. A HUES Scholar and TWH Fellow, she won Cream City Review’s 2020 Summer Poetry Prize. Maria’s work explores themes of identity and social justice centering on transnational adoption. Her website is mariaspicone.com, Twitter @mspicone.
scissors & spackle 