Three Unrelated Poems Written During Hurricane Maria

I.

The wind raped
my Basquiat-covered walls,
leaving them white and trite—
a hometown cheerleader
(with bobby socks and green and white hairbow)
overdosed on lack of goals
and horse tranquilizers—
a brushstroke without paint
inside my orifice
broke down my Indigo,
bashing obedience within.
Like Black Pearl,
but Maria raged more.

I slept beside the half-open window.
Calm came late.

II.

You don’t decide how it ends,
You simply know it will–
En Vogue, the Spice Girls,
Destiny’s Child, The Supremes,
Your life.
Black ballerina limbs break
with soft blows
like Sonny Bono.
After abuse,
will you ever bear fruit again, El Yunque?
I thought bulimia was the bitch,
but Mother Nature is a well-hung
Puerto Rican drag queen
in for the hard, long, and raw rides.

III.
The flashlight is alone.
She moves along walls
guiding me through my home,
Cueva Ventana,
or caves unnamed
reading Taino petroglyphs
I decipher like
Baptist tongues
on gay babies.
I count drunk mosquitoes
silhouetted by my light,
comparing the welts on my skin to us–
We could never connect.

Search!
Find a way out of your mind.
Loneliness looks for fillings.
She is a cavity.