A New Vocabulary
I want to be the gentle gnaw on apple skin
leaving a brown mark on yellow flesh – still delicious;
more than just bread crumbs on pink lips
more than a passing light on stones
to warm their hardness.
A Kokopelli flute
playing silhouette against
an orange harvest moon.
I want to add purple and teal as primary colors,
explain why I am as out of place as a Degas
in a Warhol Gallery, a gypsy
who turns the iron nails of each day
into love for the discordant.
I want to be a love nude
unblemished, without scissor scars
a word trail in my wake
that outlasts the mediocrity of gray.
I want to be the sound in an un-tunable
tuning fork; the creator of a new green
satchel of notes and verbs
that vibrates beyond the dreams
of a lavender jacaranda blossom
who kissed the sun
and then fell asleep on green grass.
About the author
Lisha Adela García is a poet who has México, the United States and the land in between in her work. She has an MFA from Vermont College in Writing and currently resides in Texas with her beloved four legged children. Lisha has a chapbook entitled, This Stone Will Speak, from Pudding House Press. Her book, Blood Rivers, from Blue Light Press of San Francisco was a finalist for the Andrés Montoya Prize at the University of Notre Dame. Lisha recently placed nationally in the Bodine-Brodinsky Prize from the Connecticut Poetry Society for her poem, A Woman’s Hands in a Time of War. She also has a Masters in International Business from Thunderbird for the left side of her brain.