Sonya Florentino Poems

If I were an object
I would be a guitar
So that my man would hold me
Close to his heart
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Let me be your friend
If not in life
Than in poetry
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I don't know what to wear for you tonight
Clothes strewn upon the bed
It seems I'll have to come to you
Naked instead
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A half-woven basket
on the ground
Abandoned in the
Hot midday sun
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Do I really want to write poems
Do I really want this at all
Do I really want to show my pain
Do I really not feel ashamed
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I walked along the shore to find some shells
But found none - they all had sunk
to the bottom of the ocean
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If you don’t mind I’d like to finish the soup
To the very last drop
Can I have more bread to mop it up?
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Everytime you hurt me is like small deaths
But I just hold my breath

Everytime you love me is like small deaths
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It was a mountain
That had been there forever
As far back as any one could remember
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The waves lap against me
Gently, carressingly
Like a lover beckoning me
To lie in his arms
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