I Don’t Like Being in Love, by SANDRA CISNEROS

Not like this. Not tonight,

a white stone. When you’re 36

and seething like sixteen

next to the telephone,

and you don’t know where.

And worse--with whom?

I don’t care

for this fruit. This Mexican

love hidden in the boot. This

knotted braid. Birthcord buried

beneath the knuckle of the heart.

Cat at the window scratching at

the windswept moon

scurrying along, scurrying along.

Rattling trees. Screen

doors banging raspy.

Brain a whorl of swirling fish. Oh,

I don’t like this. I don’t

like this.

From “Loose Woman” by Sandra Cisneros. (Knopf: $16.) 1994 Reprinted by permission.