by Siobhan Manrique
the stutter and punch
of your engine
starting, stopping
in the mine-dust dark
while I chase the smoldering twist
of my least favorite taste,
birth it, kill it
on my lips forever
just like your god does to you.
Is it really you who lives eternally,
or just the indent
of his teeth on your back?
***
[Siobhan Manrique is a Venezuelan-Irish middle school English teacher in rural Arizona. She earned her Certificate in Creative Writing at Northern Arizona University. Aside from remote living, previous positions in hotels and funeral homes also inform her writing, which has appeared in Full House Literary Magazine, Talking Writing, and others.]
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