Poetry by Amanda DeJesus

      Carmen Jost  CC



​What You Gave Me
​
I.
The flash of my wife’s camera blinds me,
the flag behind my wetback burns away –
palms and laurels, leaving stars.
I hold my America in my hands shaking
off the memories of my mother and father
land, bloodline washed clean in the saltwater
between me and the Greater Antilles.
II.
Our twin sets of eyes meet, hers shine. I try
not to see her small mouth move with need.
She begs for language, for me to talk
about her name or why she is wordless
in two languages. She does not understand
that muteness is not a gun in her mouth,
tongue on the trigger. It’s the weapon I gave her.
III.
Five years later, my mother leaves my father behind with the dying plátano tree behind the house.
She visits then, sunshines our kitchen and opens
windows. She teaches her granddaughter words
for pony and pacifier, but not the word for blood.
She keeps this for herself, too. There is not room
in our families for the words to say, “I’m sorry.”
IV.
I wonder at my child’s skin as she grows
into being and why she is grey instead of gold.
She seems to sag with shame, some weight
I cannot understand that pulls her down
feathers out in clumps. She fears she is too much
like her mother. I turn around to find her hand
clings to my shadow as she eclipses her own light.




Too Much A Ghazal

I remember the first time somebody called me a lush.
Luxuriant plant growth; rich sensory pleasure; a drunk; all shades of lush.

Four letters rush-mumbled, edged with a hint of distain
And the tongue’s blade that sharpens it as it’s spat, “Lush.”

A girl just aware of her waist and her hips should be full of shame
at the tilt of her lips when intoxicated with feeling, with being too lush.

It is far more refined to appear meek and mild, better to stave
Off my heart beating blood though my veins, fueling sensations of lush.

I wore a noose like a necklace, puckered my lips until I suffocated
My newfound ache for teeth, spit, and scream. To exist too boldly births lush.

It’s no sin to yearn; pink cheeks are courageous and red lips are brave.
Do not quiet yourself when told you’re too much; revel in being so lush.

My winter name sings “Noel,” my warm skin thaws their glares
as I live -- and live loudly embracing the beauty of being a lush.

​

Bio: Amanda is a student poet at the University of Central Missouri, pursuing a degree in English Literature and Creative Writing. She enjoys art of all kind and strives to support local artists in the Kansas City area. Winner of the David Baker Awards for poetry, she is excited to enter the literary world as a developing poet.