The Literary Review
unsolved mysteries
chalk outline.
in the empty space
i lose who I am
drawn in child’s
rainbow colors,
primary, impermanent,
my silouette
a heavy downpour
washed away
down a glutted gutter.
i search out my remains
scattered across years,
myself victim and suspect,
even if all i find be
bones picked clean,
shreds of colorless fabric,
remnants, grey hairs, plucked
follicles, gnawed, spit out fingernails.
at times, i forget who i am looking for
because i can not remember
who i was supposed to be.
led to an abandoned house,
finding clues in the refuse,
excretions, on filthy,
half-burned, soiled mattresses,
discarded, evidence-stained,
sinister, sordid.
rodent eyes witnessing,
waiting to feast on the witnessed.
a basement, moldy mementos, clippings,
photos with scratched out faces,
blank birth certificate,
death certificate written for the future.
an untitled draft, official biography,
expurgated, censored,
a forgotten nobody,
skeletons of a poetry formed
into the shapes of extinct animals,
playthings of predators.
eventually, i will detect
my last known location.
it will be here with you
plotting out
the perfect murder.
- Alexander Perez
i am being burned alive
i am being burned alive.
my body, the stake,
every sensation
a lick of flame
up my spinal cord,
an everlasting hellfire.
four a.m.
the streetlight casting false shadows
before true day begins
before birdsong
before dogwalkers
before purring engines
is torture.
stranded between the borders
of sunset and sunrise.
listen to the ticktock
of the raindrops
on the metal awnings,
soothing, rhythmic,
maddening.
feel the housecat
rub against my leg,
soft, loving,
disheartening.
smell the freshbrewed coffee,
hear my husband’s good morning;
hopeful, content,
devastating.
all i experience is the fire,
nerve sizzling like a fuse,
greyish black smoke
choking back the possibility
of clarity,
immobile as an ancient tree
in the clearing
as the burning approaches.
yet, strangely,
i do not turn to ash,
forced to pass the ember
onto the next fire
that consumes me,
daily, a neverending cycle.
my smoldering remains
lay cindered ground
for the future,
enriching it that
tomorrow’s fire
consumes
hotter, fiercer.
please, hopefully, one day
will you thrash one last time,
finally spent, cold, painless?
- Alexander Perez
in the morning
thought lies in ruin.
the air smells different,
not like coffee brewed,
but unsettled sleep,
unsettled dust.
it feels almost impossible.
a steel beam across my chest
would feel lighter.
it’s grey in the bedroom
painted light yellow.
most mornings
the walls rise
to meet me,
printed in patterns of sunlight,
matching our orange quilt,
so that the room glows.
i find the walls have been torn down
so there is no reason to sit up,
no reason to let out the light.
no reason even to search for survivors
under the wreckage
even if i could move.
soundless,
no human voice
can resist silence,
no desperate thought
reach above empty space.
i am the only one who can live
in the aftermath of hate.
maybe, yes, no,
a cat meows
above all that remains.
sounds hungry or cruel.
i cannot tell.
maybe i should try to get up
to feed it even if it bites me.
time cannot move slower.
unless it is already evening.
while i tried to decide
what to think, the cat has moved on.
maybe you fed it on your way out.
maybe you left without saying goodbye.
did you look for me under here?
i am buried in broken thoughts.
i hope you do not return to save me.
- Alexander Perez
assassins
be careful what you write.
when truth takes its knife,
you’re not here to rescue
me if i bleed out,
spilling secrets,
pouring condemnations,
dripping regrets,
staining your love
maximum red,
color of betrayal,
color of deception,
color of disloyalty.
blood cries out.
did you hear it?
maybe it was only
that dog’s cry,
the one beaten,
neglected,
left to lick
its wounds.
hardly have
i healed
from the last time,
sealed, scarred.
how tiring to die again
to come back
to your indifference.
words take on another poem.
here they go again.
they do not know their weight,
sometimes it’s too late,
unable to stop themselves
beauty crushing beauty,
until there’s nothing left
back to where i started.
what a mess you left,
wielding sharp words
getting nothing out of me.
- Alexander Perez
regency
do not confuse my laughter
for pain. it is only a brief
chuckle. one day they
will laugh at your ravings
too. a whipping willow tree
heavey-handed strangles me.
perhaps you misunderstand
but you cant’see. it’s growing
beneath my borrowed bed.
a bed stuffed with piercing
arrowheads. they say a queen
died comfortably here. as
regent of hell my coronation
begins. waiting for the devil
to come of age. you don’t
think i hear you breathe
behind the door. owls i
borrowed for my guards
all in the corners of the
darkness. soon i will be the
spectacle. they will stuff
me like a bear hunted by
a king, threatening, impotent.
but, no, i fear a wooden cart
will carry me to the boneyard,
dump me in a drunkard’s
grave. now your sister laughs,
waiting for her inheritance,
two coins to place upon
her handsome lover’s eyes
who loves to play the dead,
an erotic fairy tale prince,
sleeping til she awakens
him with her warm, furry
mouth. don’t walk away,
my boy. i want you by my
side. i need betrayal now.
your father’s left us all
alone. don’t mind her i
hear you say as if trying to
break the spell of a perpetual
nightmare. thank you for
leaving me alone god as if
you had a choice. willow tree
finish the deed. you’ve sapped
me dry. owls sharpen your talons.
- Alexander Perez