Leza Cantoral: You Never Die, Do You?
Photo: Joanna C. Valente
a series of images to convince you that she is dead
for marilyn
a series of images that show her naked body in various poses
back when she was in the movies.
some candids,
outtakes,
the ones that did not make the cut,
the ones with a big red X drawn across them
in red marker—
her way to X out her imperfect selves.
this is a movie
you are watching it
it is old scratched film
super 8
film
you are drinking
you are drunk
you don’t know why you are watching this.
her eyes seem very alive,
bright black in that projector glow.
she is in a scene with other people—
mostly men,
but some women.
there are a lot of bodies,
but it is somehow difficult to make her out,
between the flesh & the ropes & the whips & the dogs,
but then you start to recognize her body parts.
cut to a morgue
and she looks different.
her face—
deflated.
dimples gone,
skin pale,
more pale even than before.
back to the glamour shots—
early ones, from before she was famous,
before she bleached her hair
&
became the movie star.
full bush,
scared but bold eyes,
a smile to hide the pain.
you think if you had loved her,
if you had known her,
you would have saved,
protected her.
but really, how?
what was her alienation that wrapped her up
like a thousand scarves,
pulling & pushing her from intimacy,
holding her body as a shield
between herself
& anyone
absolutely anyone,
because it hurts more to be hurt again,
than to be alone,
with familiar wounds.
you still can’t believe
she is dead tho.
dead baby
when you said you would stay
when you said you didn’t want
more of you in the world
when you said get rid of it
when I said but it would have your eyes
&
I saw the lifeline cut short
in your white shirt
in the moonlight
making me love you
so that you could fill me
&
leave me
when you drunk dialed me
&
I drove for an hour
to feel your touch,
you drank too much
&
I felt it
I knew it was happening
&
I wanted it
a heart breaks every day,
my heart broke three times with you
third time’s the charm
ghost baby
gloom baby
gloomy baby
my dead baby
haunts me
I painted portraits
in blue—
a suffocated baby
a drowned baby
a nightmare baby
visiting me
in the shape of a cat
in the shape of a dog
in the shape of anything but
the body it would have had
vampire baby
eating my soul
you never die,
do you?
you live in me
in my phantom womb.
every time I bleed
I hear you scream
sand sigils
by the shore
making circles in the sand
as children play
in the froth
laughing
jumping
& i
wanting
wondering
asking
touching the earth
deeper
her wet sand
in circles
can I make her
wetter
can I make her
want
what I want
making sigils
making love
to the particles
of broken rock
forever breaking
forever wanting
forever
wetting
as the waves
crash
harder & higher
as the tide rises
& rises
till it engulfs her
& me
& all of us
forever
Leza Cantoral is a Xicana writer & editor who lives on the internet. She is the Editor in Chief of CLASH Books & host of the Get Lit With Leza podcast where she talks to cool ass writers. Tragedy Queens: Stories Inspired by Lana Del Rey & Sylvia Plath is a CLASH Books anthology of stories that she edited as a result of being a Lana Del Rey & Sylvia Plath megafan.
