What bloomed from grief
	came instinct, 
			came wrath.
The aftermath of my longing 
will show on your back like Lichtenberg figures 
after the subtlety 
		   of a strike.

My beautiful friend, 
I do think heat causes molecules 
to excite,
and if you let me,
we’ll honor the burn marks after this smudging.

But not before prayer, not before
kneeling behind you
your scent, curiously ancient I’m 
                     suddenly       wet 
I want you protected, well fed. So please, let me 
sage you.	 The air around you.
The air around persimmons you’ve hung out 
to dry, leaving you / not bruised 
but sugar-bloomed into a world you want to 
breathe in.

And you’re gonna wanna know what becomes of it, the tsuris of us.
Probably nothing, it’s nothing, right? I keep 

finding you in kitchens. 
And I, tending to a grow bag full of fairytale eggplants,
their blooms bowing down as if in 
	shame
		or in love
or as if grieving was a thing of
shame or love             or is it 
your scent, curiously ancient,
that is the intimate why of my grieving.

————————————–

C. Rivera called us from New York, NY.

voicemailpoems.org/submit/
facebook.com/voicemailpoems
x.com/voicemailpoems
bsky.app/profile/voicemailpoems.bsky.social
instagram.com/voicemailpoems

"Sugar Bloom & Smudge" by C. Rivera

Poetry via voicemail. Missed calls you need to hear.

Open submissions accepted.
Guidelines at http://voicemailpoems.org

"Sugar Bloom & Smudge" by C. Rivera

VOICEMAIL POEMS