Forgiveness is for barmaids and I’m a cowboy by Rocío Iglesias

I do not forgive you, nor my inattentive life, nor the earth

I forgive nothing in love for your death

For the tangible, homicidal brutal push that took you

And left this barren brush in your wake

I am the gardener left weeping over the land you occupied and once fertilized

I want to dig up this earth with my teeth,

Separate and rip the dirt apart with dry, hot bites

I want the wind to stall and stagnate in the valleys

May every beautiful field of flowers remain still enough to rot in the sun

I want to mine the earth and find your marrows,

Which remain gloriously unburned,

Kiss your skull and return you to my breast

There is no greater expanse than my wound, my pain

I feel your death more than my own life 

Rocío Iglesias is a queer Cuban-American poet. Her work has appeared in various print and electronic publications and can most recently be found in As It Ought To Be Magazine and Cuento Magazine. She lives, breathes, and works in Minneapolis, MN.