Lola Anaya
Autopsy
If you sliced me open and traced
The claw clips of my rib cage
You could snap the plastic between your fingers
And I would reach inside myself
Seeking my ancestral connections
Holding the chambers of my heart together
Soaking my fingers in the pools of blood shared by generations,
Would I feel out of place
Seeking solace within my own body?
Seeking answers from the women who held the women who held me?
Mother pulls my hair behind my face and clips it out of the way so I can eat
I imagine hers did the same
I smell the arroz con habichuelas on the stove bubbling en un caldero
Swallow down scalding rice with the hopes it will block the sensation of uncertainty
The barriers between Mother Tongue and I—
The words are somewhere within me
And maybe you could help me find them
As you whisper sweet Spanish phrases
Into my yearning ears
Break me apart by each bone, I beg,
And fill me with tangible changes
Tasting sure and sweet—
Sticky like the slice of naranja you sneak into my palm
It would ease down my throat
Trying to fill the hollow space in my chest,
Leaving my fingers with the scent of citrus longing for enlightenment
I wish I knew more than the little words I use for you,
mi amor, mi cariño, mi hermoso
I ask how my form is
As I lay there, opened up to you
Your hands grasp at the skin that remains untorn
And you can see that I am trying—
Stitching myself back together
Sticking the plastic shards back in place
