Poetry

You

by Marisol Moreno Ortiz

You are shavings of colored pencils — curves,
                                                         uneven edges, and splinters underneath skin.

You are a puzzle in every world
                                                         with different zippers
                                                         hand holding, and
                                                         closed doors.

There are no broken jars here.
                                                         No tethers of shame,
                                                         only orange amaryllis.
                                                         Ask the Victorians why.

Collage the mind with images
                                                         of things that bring you jubilation.
                                                         From sponges of cake dipped in
                                                         chocolate to silly string.

You are made of threads from the
                                                         arms in the sky and those
                                                         holding you below in the rocking
                                                         chair with kisses on your forehead.

Understand the seams made with
                                                         strained eyes and shaky hands were
                                                         the triumph of the lives in the camera
                                                         of your mind.

The lines are firm with letters written,
                                                         the lines are uneven with dances taken,
                                                         fullness will change with age like the
                                                         comfort of your four-inch heels.

Know your scars, you are a blank map
                                                         without them.

You will feel them to be true
                                                         in your hand. Paper cuts are not
                                                         mistakes when they heal from the
                                                         challenges that give you tolerance.

You are more than pinecones.
                                                         Benches are more than colored metal
                                                         and tailored poses.

There is no soul without filaments of doubt,
                                                         debris, and mending you decide you deserve
                                                         and strive to complete.

There is no abundance without bread.
                                                         There is no water without the earth
                                                         understanding the ashes left by fires.
                                                         Your tongue knowing thirst.

There is no you without catharsis.
                                                         Draw the picture you see behind
                                                         your eyes.
                                                         It will hold truth with the movements
                                                         of your body.
                                                         Discomfort is temporary, take the tweezer
                                                         and propel the splinter out.

Appeared in Issue Fall '25