glass over oil, I see

my face

in your red fur

our color stains

yellow walls,

stone moves like bodies

behind us. I train

my eyes to foresee

what we cannot use:

the price of milk

in Florida, names

of people who haven’t

been invented yet.

our skin known

for missing girls,

for mobile homes.

you don’t need to dig

for bones at your feet.

I learn to farm

corn in the field like

blood, like fur

teeth bared, calling

out a reason

to be afraid.

mj santiago

the space before war

             after Rufino Tamayo's Animals

 

 

Originally from central Florida, MJ Santiago currently lives and works in New York. Their work has appeared in Reservoir Lit, Heavy Feather Review, and No, Dear Magazine.

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