perhappened mag
issue 4: MIXTAPE
a violet dawn before
the great wilderness
VICTORIA MALLORGA HERNANDEZ
burning tires
lavender grows down highways
as we learn how to kiss in the backseat
forget our hands,
ignore the smog behind us the
city's many eyes workforce
long men and batons ready
for the unapologetic labor
of correcting wildlife
but us,
we grow like foxtails
bullets rain dry over a body
unable to hold blood,
over bodies that meet again
in the backseat whispering
little lovegrass, chanting
until light collapses into
our hands, until wildlife
raises from my fingertips
and we know this is
the end of our running days
as the melody of a floral lullaby
bursts from the radio, overpowering
the motor, the burning oil
sirens howling kilometers close,
hiding the smell of gunpowder
that claws its way towards our
little car.
so you drive us citybound
your nightshade smile, your
kisses down the back of my hand
your solar-powered heart,
your warm cruelty
turned against
the burning asphalt
that trembles in wait
foresees the blood,
the final stand, the glistening
warmth of our getaway car under vines
as you pour yourself into me
kiss my hands until
my fingertips overwhelm
the city bury us
underneath an impossible new
wilderness.
lavender grows down highways
as we learn how to kiss in the backseat
forget our hands,
ignore the smog behind us the
city's many eyes workforce
long men and batons ready
for the unapologetic labor
of correcting wildlife
but us,
we grow like foxtails
bullets rain dry over a body
unable to hold blood,
over bodies that meet again
in the backseat whispering
little lovegrass, chanting
until light collapses into
our hands, until wildlife
raises from my fingertips
and we know this is
the end of our running days
as the melody of a floral lullaby
bursts from the radio, overpowering
the motor, the burning oil
sirens howling kilometers close,
hiding the smell of gunpowder
that claws its way towards our
little car.
so you drive us citybound
your nightshade smile, your
kisses down the back of my hand
your solar-powered heart,
your warm cruelty
turned against
the burning asphalt
that trembles in wait
foresees the blood,
the final stand, the glistening
warmth of our getaway car under vines
as you pour yourself into me
kiss my hands until
my fingertips overwhelm
the city bury us
underneath an impossible new
wilderness.
victoria mallorga hernandez is a peruvian taurus, trickster, and poet. currently, she's an associate editor at palette poetry and editorial assistant at redivider mag. her first poetry collection, albion, came out with alastor editores in 2019. her work has been featured in revista lucerna, molok and el hablador. you can find her as @cielosraros in twitter and instagram.