The Voices at My Ear
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
—F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Great Gatsby”
For MP
You’ve remained in my head
along with the scar
that worms across my arm,
a reminder of violent storms
and doves struggling to fly.
You were right.
What did I know about love?
There was so little of it
in my world,
I had to borrow from the Nelsons
and the Mickey Mouse Club.
I was Annette gone bad;
a renegade Porto Rican
with no clue about anything
except death.
Did you know I wanted to be
a rock star?
Tina and Janis were my goddesses
until Morrison appeared
in all his sinister glory.
Ginsberg and Paul Crump howled
through my brain
trapped within
the fashionable confines
of my pink pillbox.
As the ocean grew restless in me
I became aware of the pirate in you,
believing you would reveal mysteries beyond the O.K. Corral,
but you said I was the true mystery—
the real outlaw.
Your truth cut deep
and recovery was slow.
Regardless, you should know
that I did make the stage
and rocked with Johnny B. Goode—
outsiders all—
in heady celebration
of our deviant social standing.
Notes:
“The Voices at My Ear” was first published in It’s Not About Dreams (Erato/Poetry, 2014). It is reprinted with permission of Kayla González Huertas.
This poem is part of the portfolio “Salima Rivera: A Chicago Rican Poet.” You can read the rest of the portfolio in the March 2024 issue.
Source:
Poetry
(March 2024)
