Juanita Rey - Poetry


by Juanita Rey

Her death happened

on a Dominican roadway,

so it’s still in Spanish –

la muerte –

for a hot climate,

it’s incredibly chilly


you say you like this face

but I tell you it holds secrets –

crumpled cars,

the sickly air of ether


all it takes is her name

and your kiss is broken –

her name

and I can’t bear the grind of bones –

her name,

please, zip me up,

it’s cold as hell in here –



why wouldn’t it be ?

it is hell –

el infierno

if you’ve been paying attention.