Lucía M. Polis The Poetry of

This poem appears in We Were Hateful People.

people who express their love
with deprecation  can go fuck themselves

this particular rabbit of thought
has only one way to go


the first blueprint I've ever drawn
my father tells me  was that of a siren

(that was the assignment
i'd give you some excerpts


culled from our thoughts
but would you understand them

or instead  would you pull patterns
from the woodgrain to remind me

1. you've never uttered the phrase we had sex
2. I've rarely said a thing that made sense


i am insane  you are beautiful


and now  four white guys with a backhoe
do the gravediggers' dance

while the professionals in the
front pews intone professionally

BE STILL MY HEART  BE STILL MY LOVE
BE STILL MY HEART  BE STILL MY LOVE


elsewhere  i watch two mute men
sign to each other  to their faces

touching fingers  all the while a short
white girl in her black raincoat stops


just to observe a long wet rainworm
on the ground  i have a breakthrough

in a room too cold  remembering
you telling me  when you finally break


you'll be better than new
they'll repair you with gold