We are pleased to present our next Poet to Notice: AMARIS RESENDIZ
They are 17 years old and living in South Central New Mexico. They have basically mastered the lyric poem and we are beyond thrilled to be the first poetry journal to take note of this vital, new voice in the world of modern American verse. Also, it’s horrific poems like the last 2 continue to need to be written in this country; it seems like all the Me Too Movement did is make “creeps” double down.
I’d often make fun of cliche romance breakups. Not real-life ones, but the overexaggerated ones from the movies.
You know, the kind you’d see in movies where they describe their breakups as ‘the end of the world’.
“Yeah right.” I tell myself every time I hear that metaphor.
I’d laugh at them, a handful of popcorn being tossed into my mouth as I lay back against my comfortable couch.
I never believed it. I never believed a singular crush could feel as if your whole world was ending.
Then it happened.
I remember it like it was yesterday. A not-so-fond memory that’s engraved into my mind.
She’d visited me, eyes avoiding mine, acting as if I’d read right through her guilt filled eyes.
“I’m sorry,” is all she could muster, the both of us standing outside my front door.
“For?” I respond.
“I like you, but I don’t like you anymore.”
I remember staring at her, my mind attempting to decipher the words that had been given to me. I tried to read between the lines, to desperately scavenge around each word as if I missed the hidden meaning inside it. But I was left with nothing.
“I don’t understand.” I whisper.
I remember seeing that look in her eye. A sort of look a stranger would give to another. It was so distant, so unwelcoming. As if all of this was a hassle to her.
In a way, her look reminded me of a doll. Blank,
I hate dolls now.
“I don’t think we should be together.”
I remember her words hitting me like a truck. Everything around me seemed to fade away, the crickets, the wind- it was silent.
Her words seem to pierce right through me.
Her pitiful smile only deepens the blade.
Our love, a once welcoming summer night, turns to a winter blizzard within a second.
And with that, she turns around, not a hug, or a wave.
Never had I ever thought I’d know what the end of the world felt like. Until then.
Wednesday, I come into work, only to see the same man who brushes his hand carefully against my ass.
Not enough for anyone to see, of course.
no, he’s too smart for that.
He knows better than to get caught.
It’s come to the point where you drape your Walmart vest so far down your shoulders, it covers your behind. You look stupid. But it’s better than feeling his hand.
You go back to work after a mild crying session.
You finish for the day.
Wednesday. You come into work, wave hello to the creepy customer as he keeps his eyes fixed on you,
your smile is wide, teeth held shut together as to not let the word
‘Pig’ escape you.
You finish for the day.
You come back to work only to be greeted by the same bald head. The same weirdo who keeps his sunglasses on, even while inside.
He wraps an arm around you, tells you about his children.
You can’t help but feel bad for them.
A pig for a father. How unfortunate.
You can’t help but wish you could say half of the things you have held inside you.
But you can’t.
The pay is too good to get fired.
So, you finish work. Only to come back another day.
“Are you a virgin?” Asks a middle aged man to me.
I stop the fidgeting of my pins.
“What?” I whisper.
I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I’d just told him I’m a high schooler.
He repeats his vulgar question.
the man must’ve noticed the look on my face. A look of pure shock.
He promptly asks me again.
Everybody else in the Walmart aisle seemed to pretend to not hear the disgusting question, they awkwardly push at their carts, quickly exiting the scene in a hurry.
Acting as if interfering would only be a hassle to them.
All these eyes directed at me, some eyeing me down out of pity, others I assume awaiting to see what I’d say.
As if this were some show to them.
I can only stand there, a wave of both fear and disgust washing over my cold body.
What can I say? Was I supposed to agree? To lash out?
I was lost. I glance around desperately for somebody to stand up, for somebody to assist me.
But, just like me, nobody was willing to say anything to the man. He was large. Bald head, tattoos scattered throughout his body, large frame-
He looked dangerous.
I planned on asking him why he would ask such a question.
Peacefully, of course.
Though my body seemed to have a different reaction.
I smiled, politely apologized to the man, and quietly walked away.
I apologized to him.
I couldn’t believe what I said.
But I suppose a broken ego is better than a broken nose.