Lisha Adela García

Mother Wail

The mother-beast is scorched,
I will not follow my daughter into hell.
Systematically, I remove the guitar
strings, destroy the case
that once held her wood,
her life form, in the cradles
of my elbows.

The corpse of her shadow
is a mourning coat I must wear.
It allows the ghosts of all mothers
to walk right through me.
It’s dark black leather
smell, magnifies the fear
tattooed on the softest skin
beneath my left breast.

La Llorona asks why I don’t
continue to search for her?
I preserve her memory in blue
enameled butterflies
and the possibility
of cherry blossoms in winter.
She wails welts on my ribs,
until my insides look
like a pock scarred moon.

Lisha Adela García is a bilingual, bicultural poet who has México, the United States and that land in between, in her work. She has an MFA from Vermont College and currently resides in Arizona with her dogs, Chiquita and Bianco as well as her cat, Nube. Lisha is a simultaneous interpreter and translator who is influenced by the American Southwest and border culture. Lisha also has a Masters in international business from Thunderbird for the left side of her brain.