A POEM by JORDAN RIVERA
SNAPSHOT OF THE POET FALLING OUT OF A COCONUT TREE
i finally see it all. i breathe out a final exhale with queen elizabeth in her stolen-gold nest, i sweat in the sand as the pyramids are being built by, surprisingly, not aliens, but many many many indentured servants under the pharaoh’s whip, i stifle a scream as the volcano by my home in pompeii erupts and hug close to my dog before its all over, i am sacrificed on the stairs of templo mayor for missing a goal in ōllamalitzli and my blood smells fresh, full of life, i am lucy, but not in the sky or with diamonds, just the first ape to walk, i am a fern on the shore where tiktaliik took its first fateful step out of the brine, i am the brine, a plankton, and then my tiny, ever-so-microscopic, photosynthetic head hits the sand.
Jordan Rivera (he/him) is a queer Xicano writer living in Boston. His work is featured in fifth wheel press, Writers Resist, HAD, and more. Read more at @jordinowrites on bluesky!