Birth of a Poet

At the age of nine, longing to reach my adored Abuelo,
I tried to swim back to the island from Palma Sola Beach.

I got sucked by the riptide.
There was no lifeguard on duty.

With all my strength,
I swam to reach the surface.

My legs cramped.
As the asthma attack evolved,

the pull of the undertow dragged me to the depths.
I watched the last bubble of air float toward the sun.

Hours later, I woke eyes sculpted on sand
and coughed streams of salt.

Hair entangled with Caribbean seagrasses,
my scratched tongue wetted the cracks on my lips.

I rose from exile, driftwood,
diatoms and beach wrack.

Wearing the cloak of a starlit night,
I walked home sobbing.

“Where have you been all day, muchachita?”
Mami screamed.

“Fishing.”

Published Source:

Masque, Mariel, “Birth of a Poet,” 50 Over Fifty Poetry Anthology, edited by Ann Davenport, Quills Edge Press, 2018.

Genesis

And I thought,
let there be folds.

And there were dark pink,
velvet‑soft, labia creases.

And I said,
let there be water.

And a river rushed from her base,
washing her rich terrain.

And I said, let there be a breadth
between her waters.

And the tip of my tongue
traveled the length of her hips.

I made her expanse open and stretch
for seven nights and seven days.

And her pleasure I named heaven
and her moans warm summer rain.

Published Source:
Masque, Mariel, “Genesis,” 50 Over Fifty Poetry Anthology, edited by Ann Davenport, Quills Edge Press, 2018.