Free The Pulse between Dimensions and the Desert by Rios de la Luz Page B

care for and I felt his warmth at the end of the night. I deleted your number, but I had it memorized. I never read the long texts you sent me because I was finally sincere with my disdain. I missed your last voicemail because I was busy at work. You got stuck on the interstate driving from Illinois. Tornado sirens wailed at plots of people piled into cars. You said you loved me and apologized about some bullshit we argued over before you bolted to a woman you met online. I was adamant on not speaking to you, so I erased the message and called you a fucking liar under my breath.
    I went to the movies alone. It was a B-movie about wizards. I wore 3D glasses inside and reached toward the screen when the leading wizard winked at the audience. She stepped out of the screen and sat next to me. She showed me her pet scorpion and the constellations on its tail. She didn’t need a wand, she simply needed her hands to cast spells. She took her hands and gently placed my hair behind my ears. She waved her hands from side to side and LED lights dispersed from the ceiling. They synchronized in colors then they blinked at different rhythms and colors. She snapped her fingers and mirrors surrounded the audience. We sat amongst makeshift stars with our buckets of popcorn and crinkly wrappers collecting on the ground. I walked out of the theater and I wanted to call you. The movie ends with the head wizard winking and blowing a kiss as she makes the theater pitch black. Droplets from the ceiling landed on my head and exposed skin. I felt hundreds of legs crawling on me. I sat in darkness and applauded. The lights came on and my skin was covered in pink and purple dust. The crawling came from the scorpions let loose as a consolation prize for watching the movie. I thought you might like the ending. I left you a message and asked you to call me back.
     
    Sirens go in and out of my hearing and a helicopter’s searchlight seeps through the cracks of this foundation. Gray is filling up my sight. I can’t feel the branches or the cold air. I catch glimpses of an overcast beach, holding your hand, running up and down the shore, finding an abandoned bouquet that you said Poseidon delivered to me because of how much potential I had at nineteen.

 

    LA REINA

    The crown of nopales reaches up at the stars with pink and yellow flowers hidden due to the darkness, but unafraid to blossom when Reina wakes in the morning to watch over the children. She paints her face with blue, red, yellow and white. Small triangles in blue on each cheek and lines from ear to ear, gliding over the bridge of her nose like a heart monitor pulse mimicking mountain ranges on the earth below. The children line up in the morning to get a glimpse of Reina. She sits on a throne made of crystals in her deep violet gown with rainbows of geometric patterns following the seams. She wears earrings made of black scorpions and a ring on each finger representing the stars she’s had the pleasure of visiting. She smiles at them always. She notices the ones who are becoming more and more transparent each morning. They are becoming part of the nebulous disorganization in the cosmos. They are becoming bigger than themselves. Her chest is heavy every day as she loses them, one by one. So, she goes to earth every night. She travels down the black spiral staircase stretching from the sky to the earth to float around and look through the windows of homes about to lose the child inside. Her feet are silent down the steps. She sniffs out abnormally slow hearts and looks inside window panes. She can see blue lips glowing and parents dreaming. She can see the little soul stretching and yawning. Reina motions at the child. Looking into his eyes, she can see his chronological health complications and DNA strands shrinking and snapping. Reina smiles at the child. Her smile is brighter than the full moon and the child walks toward her. She carries him up the spiral staircase in silence and shows