Gaby Benitez
summer bb
as a kid I’d chew tamarind pulp til my mouth was raw, red,
and still crave more / nací durante el atardecer de verano -
heat baked full, resident in concrete in limestone in tree bark, creekbed
I know I am of this time where lizards scramble annoyance
across river rock when I move too quick,
bare red throats and remind me of who was here first.
bare moon in scorpio - dreaming in and of water these days
my venus arachnid by default - a love of depth of submergence
a love that stings, carries her babies on her back by the hundreds
the fireflies flickering shimmering pulsing sex sex sex
by the thousands, cycad fronds spilling over spilling open
by the million year old tradition of vascular tissue filling
it’s not even about penetration, though now that you’re thinking about it,
tell me - what is up with this desire to be opened to ((and slightly beyond)) capacity?
Gaby (she/her/ella) is a queer, xicanx, neurodivergent writer in her quarter-life-crisis living in her evergentrifying hometown of Austin, TX. She writes to make sense of her experience living in this tumultuous world, to make sense of the ways we relate to others, the earth, the cycles of life and death. She is obsessed with watersheds, and water, and the flicker of sunlight on its surface, and with the way the elements tie us all together across space and time and universe. Would have coffee and sweet plantains for every meal if given the option. Gaby’s work can be found in Moist Poetry Journal, Wussy Mag, StoneofMadness Press, Infrarrealista Review, Liminal Transit Review, and other scattered spaces.