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Ada Limón

The Carrying

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  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying.
  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    What
    would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?
    What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said, No.
    No, to the rising tides.
  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    What if I want to go devil instead? Bow
    down to the madness that makes me.
  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    What if, instead of carrying
    a child, I am supposed to carry grief?
  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    Perhaps we are always hurtling our bodies toward
    the thing that will obliterate us, begging for love
    from the speeding passage of time
  • Samara Mendozahas quotedlast year
    I’ve come from the lacing patterns of leaves,
    I do not know where else I belong.
  • Deniss Floreshas quoted2 years ago
    There’s a hunger in me,
    a need to watch something grow.
  • Deniss Floreshas quoted2 years ago
    You ever think you could cry so hard
    that there’d be nothing left in you, like
    how the wind shakes a tree in a storm
    until every part of it is run through with
    wind?
  • Deniss Floreshas quoted2 years ago
    A whole day without speaking,
    rain, then sun, then rain again,
    a few plants in the ground, newbie
    leaves tucked in black soil, and I think
    I’m good at this, this being alone
    in the world, the watching of things
    growing, this older me, the she
    in comfortable shoes and no time
    for dishes, the she who spent
    an hour trying to figure out that the bird
    with a three-note descending call
    is just a sparrow.
  • Deniss Floreshas quoted2 years ago
    WHAT I DIDN’T KNOW BEFORE
    was how horses simply give birth to other
    horses. Not a baby by any means, not
    a creature of liminal spaces, but already
    a four-legged beast hellbent on walking,
    scrambling after the mother. A horse gives way
    to another horse and then suddenly there are
    two horses, just like that. That’s how I loved you.
    You, off the long train from Red Bank carrying
    a coffee as big as your arm, a bag with two
    computers swinging in it unwieldily at your
    side. I remember we broke into laughter
    when we saw each other. What was between
    us wasn’t a fragile thing to be coddled, cooed
    over. It came out fully formed, ready to run.
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