WAVE AS IN WARRIOR
soldier of no one’s
fortune
cheerleading
drills in the
parking lot
each night
someone advances
a wet crawl through
the crowd
Whiteout on
life’s value
a veritable meadow
of not noticing
disguised out
in the open
to have no privacy
be exposed
and invisible
to become
someone through
the unthinkable
to articulate
the empty
spaces all lit
up at night
for no one
malls
churches
schools
supermarkets
epidemic
of light
epigenetic
howling
everything
belonging to gender
and everything
not belonging piled up
on top of it
I want to say
I feel it too
a formless
lacerating
loneliness
collectively
inflicted
individually
wounded
not clean
or cauterized
many days like
this a thumb pressed
down at the top
of the skull
someone advances
a theory but language
is banished
a terrible meadow
a crush of onlookers
a nativity of debtors
public hearts
atrophied a para-
military state
and its afterbirth
as the sniper
on the roof
comes closer
who above
the record
keeper keeps
the records
someone advances
the door locked
from the outside
ropey saliva
seconds dilate
to milliseconds
pitter patter of
hearts ace of
pentacles
a man walks in-
to the theater
halfway through
the film
into the aisles I freeze
the dive reflex
takes me
I think this is
the end
the man dives
under a seat
only to find
his wallet
to think wow,
I’m still alive
and in quick
succession what
now
—
Laura Jaramillo is a poet and critic. Born to Colombian parents in Queens, New York, she now lives in Durham, North Carolina. Her books include Material Girl (Subpress, 2012) and Making Water (Futurepoem, 2022). She holds a PhD in Critical Theory from Duke University. She co-runs the North Carolina-based reading and performance series Paradiso. She is a freelance developmental editor and offers writing and theory workshops that reflect her interest in experimental education models for adults.