I walk behind my++++& he tells me it’s like our first+++&+++fear swell

in my++chest like a wet storm that+++forecaster would ever wish+++predict

tracks left oil++after+++he put the fire out & now+++in search

tracks le,+& he asks me++down & I whine+++far from the river

trac+into January++cold & coyotes out here &+++down &

down & my++numbs from the cold &+++my face &++++bury my teeth

++++++++++without fleeing &++the++++seared my++++rose in my

++++& the sap from the tree++++into the air & the stink of it smeared my

& the river came back++++I could always hold the longest underwater

I lie++++++++my pants++++++++pulled++++++++tongue

++++++++pain++++++++hips+++++++++bile++++++++++throat

cut down bled into++++++++a flood of salt++++++++my breath whine

cut down+now lovers always stare into++++kiss my breath, I

never++++++++++to the mattress

—

Sarah María Medina is a poet and a fiction/creative non-fiction writer from the American Northwest. Her writing has been published in Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Midnight Breakfast, PANK, Split This Rock, Raspa Literary Journal, and elsewhere. She is an ARTIST UP Grant LAB recipient for her poetry manuscript in progress “Ochun’s Daughter.” She is also the poetry editor at Winter Tangerine. She is at work on several projects. Find her at sarahmariamedina.com & @LaHurakan.