(c) Stephen Abbott drawing of Ava Gardner
Dear Ava Gardner,
I worry I will never be a woman like you. I have not mastered the breathy pitch nor The come hither drawl that slipped between Your ruby shined lips I am no femme fatale, no temptress in a slinky black dress. I wish the red lacquer stayed on my nails, that I’d never bite them or scrape off the polish. And I feel like such a child when I see photos of you, only 20 perfectly put together, already hourglass, dewy skin and bee-stung lips deliciousness. But you were still more—dancing away the night in Spain, seducing bullfighters with those dangerous eyes. The smirk of a woman who beat a self proclaimed chess master the first time you played a game. His ego was so bruised he never played you again. Cellophane and Dismay for Mel I. Early March—I felt like petals unfurled in my ventricles and atria. Bouquets of brightly colored flowers, burst through my chest. I am opening— blossoming with purgation. I welcomed you with offerings of Olea europaea cradled near my waist. Come let’s shed a feud ruled by an empty man. II. Your best friend said I haunted your thoughts too during that Denver November. I was not alone on the qui vive—rivals for someone who didn’t know how to love. To anyone who would ask— he was your former paramour, both of you volatile elements exploding when you soaked your skin in vodka and beer on lonely nights. But those moments were long distance—I was a witness, lying next to him when his phone would shine with your 5AM messages, 3AM calls—and these mushroomed into the pandemic meadow of 2020, two years beyond the few months you said you were the black mold in the corner of the room. That facade is eternally fragile, and decaying. III. I foolishly thought this would be more than a frigid peace— that candor would flow like honey from the hive on late a June or early July afternoon. That we could both be children finding sagacity under the full Strawberry moon. Astral Influencer I am the daughter of the messenger god; the Moirai have sent me to untangle the threads in your hand. You like to stall when you must undo the knots you create; fear a life without turmoil. You tell everyone you are chaos in a martini glass, encourage them to watch you spill on asphalt, on canvas, on your ex’s sweat covered dirty duvet. Pretend your drool is really his glittery cum— your audience eagerly awaits the peep show. None of this is original; it rained starseeds into your mind. I tend to my garden nightly— as they sprout in the soil of your dreams; even then some buds shrivel or rot. Now I am tasked with delivering your next idea to your hotel room. I place the Eight of Wands in your palm as you wait for your newest paramour to pour you champagne. Take the journey of 500 miles; design your life—watch the yarn unravel flow freely into yonder. This was always going to happen. A Fresh Start We drunk poison from the lips of those we love— looked into the vast horizon at lives that had only been mirages in the afternoon sun. Let’s start a side business as fortune tellers for the end of the world. We’ll read palms on the beach, trapped in an eternal sunset, the sky rose-gold—forever on fire. Lovers will still want to know what stars connect—if they are bound by the constellations or devoured by black holes at the edge of the universe. Watch the heavens melt like molten lava. Hold my hand as we stand on the brink of the Autumn Apocalypse, waiting to be devoured. Bio: Marisa Silva-Dunbar's work has been published in Better Than Starbucks Magazine, Chantrelle's Notebook and Pink Plastic House. Marisa is the co-editor of the anthology "Kirstofia." She has work forthcoming in Sledgehammer Lit Mag, and The Daily Drunk Mag. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @thesweetmaris. You can find more of her work at www.marisasilvadunbar.com . 2nd bio: Marisa is a Latina poet from the Southwest. Receiving an M.A. in Poetry from the University of East Anglia. Marisa also has work published in IceFloe Press, Mineral Lit Mag, Rising Phoenix Review, and Ghost Heart Lit. Bio: Marisa Silva-Dunbar's work has been published in ArLiJo, Chanterelle's Notebook, Pink Plastic House, Sledgehammer Lit, Analogies & Allegories Literary Magazine. She has work forthcoming in The Bitchin' Kitsch. Her second chapbook, "When Goddesses Wake," was released in December, 2021 from Maverick Duck Press. Her first full-length collection, "Allison," was recently published by Querencia Press. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @thesweetmaris. To check out more of her work go to www.marisasilvadunbar.com A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Marisa Silva-Dunbar 3 re-published poems by Marisa Silva-Dunbar : A Poetry Showcase
Fevers of the Mind 