To Dylan + Mauricio
There’s a boy with a sunrise smile.
One day I will meet him again and say:
I’m a city kid. At 19 I went on a trip to the ocean.
Stayed up all night to see the sunrise over the Atlantic.
It felt like the first time I had ever properly met the sun.
Like when I bumped into you
and your mouth opened, dimples canyon deep,
teeth so bright,
lips full, wide—
It gutted me.
I’m a city kid. One time I saw the desert
on TV and so I am sure
His warm skin is the desert at dusk,
soft voice leather left in the sun.
Malinche’s lost boy gone a long time.
Misses her cooking. The smell of Fabuloso.
When he kissed me I tasted cherimoya.
I find pápalo on the side of his cheek.
His tongue is a fucked colony of flavors coast to coast:
mint leaves, tobacco, coca cola, and chocolate.
Want him slung over my shoulders again.
Warm. Heavy. Negrita. Roll over.
And how I will roll like a flood of R’s
under his tongue. I fold into him.
Masa harina in water.
Strong hands kneading me.
I will watch his head dip into the horizon.
I will watch his eyes set.
I will watch night become.
Oil spill curls locking in my hands.
Night comes. Aching pitch.
guava pink, sweet river—
Janea Kelly is a co-host and curator of the monthly poetry series Tender FM. Janea Kelly is accident prone. Janea Kelly is 5’2. Janea Kelly loves peeling oranges. Janea Kelly loves onion rings and french fries.