3 Poems

By Liz Márquez

Glory 

the rebellion she leads
in the sway of her hips

the life her breasts nourish,
how they call her lover home

her blemishes her beauty—wrinkles
made valiant in her smile. stretch marks

the evidence her glory will
not be contained. the expanding of her

lungs in the inhale she demands.
the injustices she bears witness

to; her tears that call them
by name. the healing she brings forth—

weak made strong in her
embrace. the sweet

grace with which she carries
all things heavy and

hard. blessed is ella—
holy tensions wrapped up in

female skin, she—an imago dei
revolution.
Pantoum for Tía Flor

When Tía Flor makes lemonade
She needs no recipe—
A pinch and a few spoonfuls, squeeze out a love like this
That cannot be measured, only felt.

She needs no recipe.
Her hands speak of the proverb in the pulp.
This cannot be told in measures. Feel how
Body and soul come together to let the

Hands speak. This proverb in the pulp:
Mothering is learning to sweeten the sour—
body and soul. Come together to let the
bitter be consumed by the saccharine.

A mother learns. To sweeten the sour,
A pinch, a few spoonfuls, squeezing to unmake a love this
bitter. Be consumed by the saccharine—
When Tía Flor’s memory makes lemonade with me.
Parted

I stare			anxious
to name the parts that make up	self
madre		my dre[ad]
desmadre
madre nueva
infant motherhood
mother
			other
			othered
	
the mirror again lends itself
to my nakedness

Liz Márquez is an Ecuadorian American bilingual educator and writer based in Houston, Texas. Her poems and other writings have appeared in Mixed Mag, Mujeristas Collective, Muchacha Fanzine, and more. She was also a 2021 La Raíz Poetry Prize recipient. For more of her work, visit www.lizmarquez.com.