Little Boat Vida Mía by Lauren Mallett
Editorial intern Emma Fellows on today’s bonus poem: Lauren Mallett transitions from English to Spanish with ease in Little Boat Vida Mía, a seamless listicle poem that packs a punch with dense imagery and unique language. I hope you all enjoy this immersive, rhythmic piece as much as I have.
Little Boat Vida Mía
after Kim Addonizio
That diesel seasick, that blue trim, that lapping at its girders.
This ribboned nipple, this translucent blouse with the scalloped neckline,
these ruffled sleeves. These sandal clouds, this bordered in she who cast
this coast of gold. That hair pulled back from the face. This face.
Watercolor printed with soy-based inks. These hot springs, this ocean,
my god this over-the-top with claws. This seed pod cracked and cooked
your way. This whiteness, no matter how burnt or dappled by moles.
That flush when how dare you, this privileged, that fad wad of bills.
This floating, those children on the mossy rocks. This mother tongue,
that other tongue en esa playa esos federales a punto de salir
de ese cuadro. That hiking up my train so you can see my ankles.
That plumage, this applause ready to silly spray the heavens. That mother
with the bigger hoops; this daughter with the longer chains. This quadruple
mosaic held up by a cherub. I spy Lucifer, I spy Sor Juana. This rocking
and knocking of the persistent, beauteous ribble rabble. This Zihuatanejo
Thanksgiving, that zilch long gone, this never forget this, water’s fine.
Lauren Mallett’s poems appear in RHINO Poetry, Smartish Pace, Barrow
Street, Sou'wester, Spoon River Poetry Review, and other journals. She
lives and teaches in Indiana. Read more at http://www.laurenmallett.com.
