my tried resurrection
for Amber Heard
my past of eroded, bludgeon-eyed. my charges
of trophy wife and water works and lilith.
his lawyer hocks questions: how’d i rev
a combusted convertible? how’d i exit
onto highway, headed to cut through desert dust?
my past of blood suds and crawling. his bullet
had pierced my lung. taking turns, jury members
stick their fingers in my hole. my present
of thomases. traffic cam footage rolls of when
i materialized in an intersection. cars swerved me,
piled-up as wreckage. his lawyer says i’m unholy,
that i live only because the devil refused me.
but beyond was scented of citrus, felt like
dancing gin-dizzy. was my few days of untouched.
For my mother
beach-side bar. wafting burger-scent,
beef’s searing hiss. on the boardwalk,
my flip-flops kicked off. me in a bikini,
holding a margarita, salted rim.
my mom reminds me
to shuffle my feet, to discourage the stingrays.
i didn’t swim, nervous of currents; saw him
fishing, without much luck. nothing
biting his worms. how i end up in his truck?
where he strips me of strings. asphalt
in my knees, zombie-ing towards trafficked street.
i was naive, she says,
cuffing her jeans to show me scar.
what a relief, that she can’t see my heart.
Since Jonatan Took the Bus to His Uncreation
Montana sheriff: “motel bathtub…shotgun…”.
Into windshield frost, you as what I scrape off.
Champagne and smoke I subsist on, since. Hear your call
from the abyss, when I drive across a bridge. Except
I hallucinate, being so starving. Looking at you
causes lapse; I scissor your photographs. Like when I fainted,
seeing your face on a friend’s fridge. Eating
ruins the emptiness, which is all I have/you left.
Maria Hiers (she/her) is pursuing her MFA in poetry at the University of Houston. Her work appears in or is forthcoming in Harpur Palate, The Shore, and New Note Poetry.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.