Mariana Caldas

I tend towards excess,
thirteen was a ripe year,
the unbuttoning of flesh,

first blood biting
between unready thighs,
knees aching with the weight of God,

his dank breath, 
the thread between my teeth
catching, romantic and dark with it.

My heart calling from
another room without window,
Delilah with Samson like smoke between her teeth.

— Crystal Vega-Huerta, “Heart”