is born from whiskey father, together they
dance under moonshine moon. light me on
fire, picture of burnt flesh—a firefighter’s nightmare
in cognac flames. this smoke rises in cold
air, not the one for the summertime heat. let’s
sip beer from soft lips, we are the shattered glass
that litters these beaches. sinner’s feet get cut on
sharp edges, melt back into our birthplace. whiskey
baby burns burns burns towards the heavens, no baby
doll smiles for paid lovers. not when my lineage tasted
the salt of this country as it dug into our bandaged
feet, no more than a spot of blood among a sea of denial.
whiskey baby cries tears of liquor, watch it pour down
our foreign throats, no home no home no home. drifters
of drained seas, take this salt and spread it onto unwilling
tongues, all dried up without a drop to drink. sinner in the
summertime, we are no aliens but just addicts searching for love.
By Amanda Kay
Amanda is a current sophomore at Santa Clara High School. She enjoys swimming, reading, and drinking a good cup of tea.
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