It’s Not What Mexico Gives
but what it doesn’t take
that we’ll remember
a woman in a tourist shop
refills a slushy machine
from a sack of red juice and what spills
sticks to her sandals
sucking ground like the sound
of angry C130s
hovering above the beach
we tell ourselves our government’s
only practicing
against a sunset
that bleeds into the cradle
of a tactile landing
she says it’s lucky to buy a lottery ticket
when red war turns redder
the balls bounce in a cage and hit
like low level training missions
fear motivates us
to move a little faster
we follow the other ants
to collect the strawberry’s
long line of juice
Mirroring
he unhooks a velvet rope
ushering me into the club
where a group of dolls
sit shining on a shelf –
she is empty
waiting to be fulfilled
she is anxious
ready to leave
their unconcerned faces were never
meant to agree
she is lifting a mirror –
here I am
I am not there
I am leaving on a journey
which could eventually lead
away from my body
to show that I do
still have my head about me
✶✶✶✶
Victoria McArtor holds an MFA, is a former professor for the University of Tulsa, and is co-founder of a poetry and collaborative arts nonprofit, MUSED. McArtor gives her time by serving on the board of directors for the Black Wall Street Arts Gallery and the Oklahoma Center for Poets and Writers. Working primarily in the technology industry, McArtor is the lead creative at Victoria Copied, LLC., a creative copywriting agency based in Southern California. Using what she calls “the poetry of sales,” Victoria helps companies simplify complex ideas and evoke emotion amongst their ideal audience.
Another Chicago Magazine 