I Feel Most Like Myself with Painted Nails
by Brandon Melendez
rouge sunset battered
atop each finger
a small galaxy
of comet & solar flare,
I am a god
of these two hands
& today let there be
unapologetic light.
let there be an origin
story that is not bruised
fruit lodged in the throat
like a stack of ribs.
when someone says man
the fuck up, they mean
what breathing thing
have you made
into a wound? what wounds
have you worn as trophy?
I try to name
a masculinity
that is not a wolf
masked in the body
of a wolf
& I end up howling
at the fist pressed
into the night’s soft cheek.
I’m sorry I’m not
sorry I undressed
myself of knuckles today.
I imagined a universe
not dipped in blood
& made myself drip
with starlight.
I walked out
the front door
& marveled
at the way everything I touch
shines.
atop each finger
a small galaxy
of comet & solar flare,
I am a god
of these two hands
& today let there be
unapologetic light.
let there be an origin
story that is not bruised
fruit lodged in the throat
like a stack of ribs.
when someone says man
the fuck up, they mean
what breathing thing
have you made
into a wound? what wounds
have you worn as trophy?
I try to name
a masculinity
that is not a wolf
masked in the body
of a wolf
& I end up howling
at the fist pressed
into the night’s soft cheek.
I’m sorry I’m not
sorry I undressed
myself of knuckles today.
I imagined a universe
not dipped in blood
& made myself drip
with starlight.
I walked out
the front door
& marveled
at the way everything I touch
shines.
Brandon Melendez is a Mexican-American poet from California. His first book is forthcoming with Write Bloody Publishing. He is a National Poetry Slam finalist, Rustbelt Poetry Slam Finalist, and two-time Berkeley Grand Slam Champion. His poems are in or forthcoming in Sixth Finch, Tinderbox, decomP and elsewhere. He currently lives in Boston & is an MFA candidate at Emerson College.
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December 2017
December 2017
