Muscle
Keep screaming. Keep banging
on the glass until someone picks
up the snow globe and shakes
you awake. When the basement
darkness bites at your heels,
run faster. Do not cave in. No
matter how heavy the bags
beneath your eyes, keep them open
wide. Cry down the street
if you must. Tears and sweat, feet
crushing the pavement. Outrun
the pain that laps at the sidewalk. Sing
him. Breathe him. Does it matter
what the fuel is, long as something
is pushing you? Bulge the tendons
in your neck with screams SO BIG
they jolt him from his sleep. Don’t
be unheard. Don’t be forgotten. Do not
strangle yourself in the covers of your
bed, wrangling with your mind for
rest. Because I tell you, he is not
thinking of you. When you wrestle
your thoughts to the ground, punch
them squarely. Like you wish you’d done
all the times before. To him. To all of them.
Your blood is now your armor. Shield
of gritted teeth. The hairs will stand up
on the back of his neck when he hears
you roar.
****************************************
He Told Me Stories
Of sleeping and dreaming
in a hot box of a room
held shifting shadows
mosquitos buzzing his 8-year-old ears
sandy bed robbed of blankets
under which he wished to hide
watchful of opening door, creaking signal
of sneaking mom hiding in his gritty bed
with him, together in fear
of the fist of his dad.
Of days spent at the river
swinging from thick mossy ropes
dropping down into opaque water
he and his brothers sharing an RC Cola
from the smooth glass bottle of summer
swimming against the current
beneath the blackened bridge.
Of night setting in, heavier
than nights of other children
tucked into cozy beds
with blankets –
his nights spent in dread
of opening doors, shadows spinning
cast in moonlight through the droning box fan
that barely budged the heavy air
to where he lay,
praying.
****************************************
Re: Your Txt Msg
You saw a plane fly into the Big Dipper
and were reminded of the me you knew?
Funny.
Life perceived through amber bottle,
distorted. Life viewed through tears,
raw. You held me hostage
in a nightmare. Little girl’s world fast
forward. Know fear. Be strong. Hide
yourself.
I existed in books and the night sky.
If I could reach into my old room and touch
the things I stashed inside, I would destroy
the astronomy book, glowing
plastic stars, telescope –
you think you know who I am?
but you can’t ignore
it when it’s streaming
down
my face. Down
your throat, the drink goes –
not a secret. Little girl is breaking
(I saw a plane fly into the Big Dipper and I was)
free.
Natalie Ramirez has been many things - student, daughter, mother, wife, friend. The current version of Natalie is a corporate career woman that is reconnecting with her creative side. Over the years, she has found inspiration in unexpected places, reflected in her poetry which covers a range of emotions and experiences, both positive and negative. Her favorite things include: seeing places she’s never been before, every kind of music, true crime, costume parties, wine, and hockey.