Stacie McCall Whitaker - Stone Coast, Maine

Necropolis

My love for you

is of the sarcophagi

of Havana;

sea-suppressant cases and corpses

buried inside the soil that still

tastes itself Communist. When run

down in seawater their cells

cannot wrinkle away, break back into

the ocean:

they are marble

and immune.

 

The seawater has

not found its way into us.

I think under your skin

broke the angst

of a beloved human angel,

as if in the Isle of Pines,

the dead under el descuido,

 

marked as a stained white stone

in its American citizen cemetery

covered under the marabú.

 

I think you died

and then never came back

to where you wanted to go.

About the Author

Victoria María Castells is a graduate of McNeese State’s MFA program, and has a B.A. in English from Duke University. Her work is also forthcoming in Tinderbox Poetry Journal.