Melania Luisa Marte – Adam Be a Migrant Farmer [Video]

Melania Luisa Marte – Adam Be a Migrant Farmer [Video]

 

By Button Poetry

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Melania Luisa Marte, performing at Button Poetry Live, August 2018.

 

Transcript provided by YouTube:

I’ve loved a thousand boys.

You were my first.

Back when I wasn’t forced to wear shirts,

we loved each other barefoot and naked, unconditional playmates in the dirt.

I could write lullabies about our newborn love.

I know I care for you in a different way,

the way a coconut produces its own water,

our love is self-sufficient.

It doesn’t need attachment to survive.

You look the same, but you walk different,

and you smile brighter,

and I don’t know which one of us will be honest first.

But all I know is you look at me and my knees fumble

and my neck sweats and my eyes expand.

All I know is your smile is like the end of a revolution

that we don’t know we fighting.

I can’t help but wanna be the smallest part of the shine

in those teeth.

All I know is my heart beats overtime when you’re near.

If I shall ever go into cardiac arrest, just know you were to blame,

and that’s the best way to go.

I wouldn’t mind dying in your grace.

All I know is I want to confront the Adam in that apple

that has bruised your neck to perfection.

All I know is my hand fits perfectly in yours and forms a shield

that bubbles around us and life’s pains seem to just fade.

We have become immune to its blade.

I wanted to start my own holiday.

And on every Sunday, we shall bask in each other’s skin,

and become enveloped in amour, where the debris of the week

is white-washed in our sheets, and just for one day a week,

we can settle in peace.

But it happened, in the manner that all things come crashing down,

my dreams of you fell apart.

You, a wild orchid and me, a rice picker.

I pluck you as if you were food to eat.

Like I don’t know you’ve been eaten before.

Like I don’t know you earn your work.

Like I don’t know how your hands got to be this soft and rough.

I dream of you in the light.

Like I don’t know what that bronze does to all that body.

Like I don’t know a snake of a woman convinced you to bite the fruit.

Like I don’t know you tried to hold back but couldn’t.

I dream of you the way God taught me to love myself.

Like you are a part of me that needs mending.

I try to reconcile the thought of us.

You fed me mangoes one day.

I hope you still remember it.

You knew it was my favorite.

Spent the whole day hunting through gardens and eager,

so eager to please me with this gift, and we sat there, knees touching,

rocking back and forth in the canopy of a home.

So when you come to me, I hope you settled into your skin.

I didn’t mean to startle you.

I know I was unexpected.

I know I invited myself.

I know they say great things about you.

When you come to me, I hope you let your guard down.

I hope you know I know you never had a guard up.

I hope you remember what it’s like to be loved without appearance.

I hope you still remember your dreams, not now, but before you knew

what a woman’s touch felt like,

before you felt so broken,

before life made you so stiff.

I hope you know that I still remembered you as soft.

Still wet behind the ears.

Still wild and free.

Still a beautiful boy, full of beautiful dreams.

(cheers and applause)

This post was previously published on YouTube.

***

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