Camila Rodríguez

I bit into the back of her head,
copper and salt scrubbing against my tongue
gnawed at stubborn skin that would not break,
just to suck on it then spit it out.
There’d been war where I planted a kiss
a mess where my fingers once combed
through acres of something that bloomed,
tulips, perhaps? Stuck one against the other
by the stem, with the clots on my teeth.
I bit into her cranium,
had the earth collided with the cosmos,
it would have sounded just about the same,
as a mouth breaking a bone,
just to lick it clean then spit it out.
My finger dove into her brain,
there’d been more fingers where I rested my own,
more livid lovers, starved savages,
biting at her brain to find each other’s fingerprints,
evidence, tangible. We deserve to live on.

–

Camila Rodríguez is a seventeen year old high school student from Cartagena, Colombia. Born and raised in Bogotá, Camila grew up in an environment of art, literature and culture. Heavily inspired by currents such as nadaism, Camila hopes to someday be able to call herself a published and well-respected author.