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