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| ?Done,? murmured Chela as she rested her head back upon Barbara?s chest, running her hand lazily over the tattoo as her eyes drooped. ?Mmmm. Mami, you?re putting me to sleep,? said Barbara groggily. ?Mmmm. You made me feel so good. You should ask for something?oh, keep rubbing me there,? she purred. ?Right,? said Chela quietly, knowing that Barbara couldn?t see the sad edges of her thin smile. ?You live here, you learn not to ask for things.? ?Mmmm,? grunted Barbara, halfway to her first dream of the night?s sleep. ?I am not the central planning committee. I want you to ask.? I have nothing to lose. How do I walk into tomorrow without making any effort to keep her? ?All right then, compañera,? whispered Chela, trying to control her voice. ?You are a good doctor which is something this country needs. And you are the only person that makes me feel so free in my body, so you are something that I need. Rip up your passport. Stay with me.? Crap! I?m awake! thought Barbara, as she carefully rolled Chela off her chest and shifted up onto her elbow. Stay here? Geez, but I didn?t bring my u-haul. I don?t want to leave her, but?me here? Oh fuck, don?t let her cry. The pain in her lover?s eyes tugged at her heart, and she struggled to maintain her composure, searching for the right words with which to respond. Chela tried to read the confusing expression on the American woman?s face. You went too far too fast, Chela, she thought miserably to herself. Well, I couldn?t have lived with myself without having taken the risk. So? I will seize what consolation I may tonight?but this struggle is not over. I refuse to concede her to that damn current that washes hope away from these shores. ?I knew it was too much to ask, but you said you wanted to know this. I will understand if you can?t say yes to this rather big request. Perhaps,? Chela pressed on bravely, ?you might consider giving me a ?yes? to a smaller one.? Then she ducked her head to run her tongue across one of Barbara?s nipples, before starting to suckle it. ?Chelita,? murmured Barbara earnestly, as she straddled the younger woman?s thigh. ?I don?t know what to say, but I?m glad that you told me. I don?t know how to fix this for us. This isn?t a matter of stitches.? She paused to tip Chela?s face up from her breast, and kissed her. ?But I can tell you this,? she said as she started to move slowly against her. ?I will think about it, and as to that ?smaller request?? this is my yes.? ~~~~~~ You are my canoe: a solid vessel carved of the finest ceiba wood and bleached by the rays of the sun. I rest across you as you take us out across the reef and into deep uncharted waters, leaving you to navigate by the light of stars that only you can see. You want a better land for us. Years ago my fathers and mothers also sailed, coursing down the mighty Orinoco until they reached the sea, defying currents and the prevailing winds, they came here: buttons of soil and rock that adorned the shirt of the horizon ? the Antilles beckoned them. Now you sense our shore of promise. I kneel at the bow, trusting, as the waves break upon us, soaking our skins in their spray as they drive us towards our landing. Their cadence is my heartbeat as I ride you all the way to the beach, the sand cushioning our arrival. I kiss the ground and then you: with you beneath me I fear no storm. With you beneath me I need no homeland, only more journeys. Well, my compañera, here is your first payment. When I woke this morning and looked at you, and felt the warmth that looking at you provoked in me, I couldn?t help but think that I got the better part of the bargain. I know that I am operating on a severe trade deficit already. Still, if you are interested and you are willing to extend me some badly needed credit, I have many more poems. Come find me on the beach when you are done with your snoring. Chela To be continued. Feedback to ortizbriggs@aol.com ?No Voy a Mover un Dedo? (?I?m not Going to Lift a Finger?) by Yordano, used without permission. The irrepressible merengue version by Alex Mansilla and Cañaveral is lamentably out of print. If you have it in vinyl or CD, please have mercy and contact the author at email above. My cassette is wearing thin. Translation of ?Si Buscabas? (?If You Were Looking?), by Salvador Cardenal, Guardabarrancas version: If you were looking for/a willing body/ that would loosen your ties/that from your knots would unravel/disrobe (homonyms) your most innocent beast?/If you were waiting for/a fire so intense/it would light your ashes/ that would make you feel a breeze/where there was no longer any source?/If you were yearning for/ a heart of refuge/where you could flee from so many people/who hurt you and who wanted you/just to make their day happy?/If you were dreaming of seeking your freedom/through another person/who would liberate your doves/ from their need to fly/ who would fight alongside you/ to bring the springtime?/you have found her. I am indebted to Terri Kapsalis?s Public Privates: Performing Gynecology from Both ends of the Speculum, for all the bad news about how pelvics are taught and practiced. |
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