Water #short prose #flash fiction

It was too late. I was already thrown into my memories, chained to my past, tortured by its unbearable voices.

I ran toward the ocean. I jumped. The water glued my dress to my body, hit my burning face, wiped my century-old tears.  In the dark I went deeper and deeper looking for the bottom.

Few seconds, and I felt Miguel’s body wrapping around mine.  His arms were pulling me up.

My lungs were burning. I started coughing.

Miguel whispered: “It never happened, Clara. It never happened.”

And yet something terrible must have happened before Jacques left Paris, something that was deeply buried in my memory, something that I was refusing to acknowledge. Did Jacques come to see me that night? Did he?

A horrifying thought crossed my mind.

Miguel, Angelo, and I would not be put in different heavens or hells. We were going to the same place, so we could continue obsessing over and over about Jacques’ imagined love for me and that dreadful fated night that changed our lives forever.

That’s right: a night that I couldn’t remember.

Excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers

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Nominated for author of the month at Spillwords Press #poetry #short prose #writers

My Dear Readers,

Together with other wonderful writers, I was nominated “Author of the Month” at Spillwords Press. You do not need a Spillwords account to vote. You can vote with your FB, Twitter and probably with your WP account too.

My most sincere thanks to all of you who vote Gabriela M.

Vote

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…keep my memory #short prose #flash fiction

“I want your flesh to keep my memory, and your soul to forget me.”
*
“Well, Angelo, crucify me. I said that because at the time I did not believe flesh has any memory. Now, I do not know what to believe anymore.”
*
Every night the wounded blue of his eyes haunts me.
What have I done? 

excerpt from the manuscript Glass Lovers

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bewitched #poem #poetry

perhaps I was bewitched by the North Star
or by a ballad as dateless as my blood
geography of feelings populates unwanted interludes
my eyes, the nests of dewy grass and leaves
emerald eyelashes flaunt
black taffeta chirps between my fingers like piano keys
inside my soul your kisses soar
soft lilac tones like prayers of the youngest nun
perhaps because I read your poetry last night
and cut my soul between a stanza and a strife
perhaps a child played with a kite
a kingdom for a sup
maybe it was the wind
that woke me up

Published in the Indian Periodical, March 3, 2019

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image: Irina Alexandrovna, Shutterstock; [link]

 

astral mandolin #poetry #poem

play in your room the mandolin tonight
paint the air with aurora borealis’ chant
arabesque designs awake my soul
the shining sound the time reverses

play in the streets your mandolin tonight
its cords,
your love for me…
my heart choreographs the scenes…

fragment from the poem “Astral Mandolin”

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