Vanessa Balderrama

The water no longer calls to me;
Leviathan succumbs deliciously
to slumber.
Bubbles popping in the eye.
Yet still, here you continue
appearing baby blue,
prowling
I thought memory had discarded you.

You hold your body in motions:
you’ve never been a moth
stuck painfully on a board.
I keep minding my hands,
what is it you do with hands?
Relaxing your body
in swooping curves,
it’s easy to imagine me an artist
drawing your slopes, those beaten
frantic hands.

When night has stilled, I dare imagine
giving in; letting go.
I make stories with this imagining
dramatic but
not always all fantasy,
In these tales, every action goes
unpunished. And the head,
so silly! Forgets.
So I can (at last!)
live again.

–

Vanessa Balderrama is a poet and writer from Mexico. She is eighteen years old and about to go to college in August. She loves to write poems and short stories when time kindly allows. Her favorite color is blue. And, in her free time, she likes to meet with friends.