the mourning song and fire call of one lover, separated indefinitely from the other, by the global travel ban of COVID-19

You—not half of me. We share no bones.

and still, my body

wakes and wanders

looking for you

I send pearls into the sea

and sing prayer—one day you will

catch them

Their fat cheeks twirling, tumbled

click-clacking

bouncing off each other’s wily heads

skating through the sand

spinning

and rolling at last

along

your toes

--

Time doubles over

No escape from this funhouse

hate drips off my teeth

the desolate wail of a baby left hungry

hungry as a ghost—my ghost heart.

My little pearls are braver than I,

rumbled and tossed in ecstatic chaos—exploding waves

bounding and leaping from star to star

down the funnel of the Milky Way

looking for you

--

Seasons turn over like dreams

foam pearls liquify into infinite waves

infinite days

Every garden I’ve wished to

grow with you

herb scents spiraling towards our nostrils

meals climbing into your mouth

Every touch—your skin the sole companion

I wait. I grow. I live

I die

each day

Bones reassembled for the day life

are taken apart again to go prowling through dreams

--

My bones— rattling

rolling

clacking

smooth

and

jangling

their cheeky curves are curious—wind dancers.

Through their valleys

echo gales of sand and sorrow. Fire song.

My bones—alive pearls

dancing water demons

moaning stones

they leave my body

skin home

to wander this earth

looking for you

Sarah Maria Gutiérrez is a social worker and psychotherapist working in Evanston, IL. They are a femme person of Mexican American heritage who enjoys hanging out with books, trees, and animals. They spend as much time as they can in the garden, elbow deep in dirt. And in the kitchen, covered in olive oil.

This is their first poetry submission.