Filaments
Filaments of water reach her bare feet,
Delicate roots submerged in the fresh darkness,
Abandoned by the moon.
Filaments of water—sparkling on a spider web,
Little diamonds in the midst of the forest,
A sharp wind tries to steal them.
Filaments of water inside her—boiling.
Yet bathing in coldness,
Tempting scent of damp earth.
Spiders skim her feet, climb her legs,
Conquer her breasts and bite
Up to her neck.
Waves of screams break in her mouth
Shut. The mud slowly swallows her body,
Tears snatched away by the water.
Filaments of blood gush from her pale skin,
Bright as rubies—
Roots of a seedless tree
In a forest of menacing pines.
A Dance of Lament
One drop after another
leads the rain to a dance on the lake.
This dance becomes violent—
a Chopin melody.
The reflection of the boy in the water
breaks.
The mermaid looks at him from
underwater,
She can not distinguish between
his son’s tears from the pouring rain.
Everytime she wishes to rise to the surface,
the boy’s father yells his name.
The rain stops its dance
and the mermaid hides at the bottom of the lake.
— Carolina Gonzalez Llamas is a writer from San Diego. Her work has been published in The Vagabond and the Creative Collective Magazine. She has recited her poetry in Mexico, alongside a Mixtec interpreter, and she also likes photography, which can be found in her Instagram: @carolinagll__.