LOUDSPEAKER:: 3 Poems by Gaby Benitez

Writing

Jun 15

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WUSSY is proud to present poetry by Gaby Benitez
If you would like to send in a writing submission, please contact Nicholas Goodly.

regularly overthinking blowjobs

prelude: I always advocate for spitting, not swallowing the propaganda that’s pumped into you,
there’s an art to it, a rhythm, musicality to it, what’s practiced by those who taste wine, coffee,
and cum, and what was used back in the day by those who tested food and drink for poison, for
death.

one: roll it around in your mouth, letting it touch all parts of the tongue, washing over teeth and
gums.

and: swish it so that the inside of your cheeks can feel the potency, gargle it to the edge of
gagging so that you feel the full force of the idea, the entirety of the concept.

two: screen it for every drop of poison for all calculated measure and bias, for everything that
does not nourish you

and: make your choice.

three: reject it, discreetly if you want, in a napkin or hidden behind a cough or sneeze, or
perhaps in full visibility, spewing it to the heavens without regard or care.

and: or, you can choose to swallow (I won’t tell you what to do with your body).

four: swallow and savor it as it slides down your throat and settles in your stomach, where blood
will eventually circulate it to your brain, your heart, throughout your entire system.

and: when you take in an idea, you absorb it fully, you mesh and you merge. You are what you
eat just as you are the empty space of what you refuse to let in any farther than mouthfeel, than
tastebuds.

Spit or swallow, your choice.
(rinse and repeat)

el ruego

quien fue la/e/o primera/e/o
to put their hands together in prayer
offer their head - ask forgiveness
what were they pressing so firmly
in between sweaty palms, fingertips
knuckles changing color
y que tenían, tan querida/e/o
that they
came so hard
that they
paused/stood still/stopped
in their tracks to beg for

fue una semilla de maíz, flor de calabaza, pan y mantequilla
squeezing into germination, into nourishment
suffocating back to life?
choke me, daddy
was it skin and bone?
i want to feel something
holding fast, pushing to stop the exodus of blood and promote healing
what did they ask for?
dámelo
do i pray to you when we make love
suturing two halves together, waiting for entirety, waiting to be made whole?
fuck me harder, porfa
what was the miracle -
the answered question, the existential favor
made us all think that we too could receive that, could tap that
if we just - pressed tightly enough, if you just - slam into me a little bit deeper
a vacuum of rosary and confession
made the prayer plants pray, full-body vibrant?
i do not believe in god
if you stick your finger in a 1⁄4 inch and are met with wetness
no necesitas más agua

it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood

can I mulch the oak tree in the back
with period blood and piss and cum
dead skin
i don’t need gloves for this
i don’t need protection
for this
barehanded
and utterly terrified
but I am not a danger to myself
nor a stranger to myself
any longer

i hope the parked car on the side of the road is the container for a sweet fuck or a soft home
so many people asking me for directions
the only way I know is north and the changing of the seasons
the shift from cicada song to crickets to silence
the snakes burrowing for warmth

same
didn’t you hear me?
i shed that old skin dead skin
for a version of me you have never known
the rest a compost heap for bacterial consumption, fungal networking

did you hear me?
i said I’m not afraid of winter this time around
hate the cold but know how to stay whole
how to stay full moon

the compost burns hot
kills all pathogens, ghosts and otherwise
leaving soil I could sink my teeth in
sink a vegetable garden in
pull greedy from the stem
pop pop pop into bowls and bowls and bowls
overflowing

Gaby (she/her/ella) is a queer, Xicana writer in her quarter-life-crisis living in her evergentrifying hometown of Austin, TX. She writes to make sense of her experience living in this tumultuous world, to make sense of the ways we relate to others, to the earth, and to the cycles of life and death. Much of her writing is through the lens of the body as a borderlands, meeting place, and interdimensional highway for these pathways of connection. She is obsessed with watersheds, worms and the compost cycle, and with the way the elements tie us all together across space and time and universe. Would have coffee and sweet plantains for every meal if given the option. Gaby can be found offline planting seeds in her backyard garden, or online @gabriellebenitez.

Cover photo by www.instagram.com/thevisualiza

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