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Alejandra Cabezas

Peyote

because I myself am a shapeshifter,
I have only loved men with long hair— 
 
evergreen, like vines of dragon fruit.
because I myself am a shapeshifter,
 
I have learned to call it this. When I mean
to say, pitaya. pulque. peyotl. please stop,
 
you are hurting me. the body feigns
ignorance when the brain, too, is viscous.
 
I have sinew like a cactus. succulent.
again —I mean to say, caterpillar cocoon.
 
glistening. engorged. did you know
cacti have areolas? white tufts.
 
with little spine clusters.
but that doesn’t stop the prairie dogs. 
 
these animals are not as menacing
as they sound. not like xoloitzcuintle.
 
Xolotl. god of death (and deformities).
mine are many. my clubbed foot.
 
my extra vertebrae. my necrous ovary.
& my one remaining egg, rattling
 
inside me like a castanet. have I said
too much? say please if you want me
 
to stop. when my tongue splits in two,
I spit out curses. but the women love this. 

I am a witch, you know. a shapeshifter. 
Jan / Feb 2024

Alejandra Cabezas
Alejandra Cabezas is a poet and storyteller from Antiguo Cuscatlan, El Salvador. Her work has appeared in Pleiades Magazine, No Tokens Journal, 128 Lit, Hex Literary, Pigeonholes, The Shore Journal, and elsewhere. She was named Poet of the Month by YES Poetry in May 2021, and she represented Mount Holyoke at the Glascock Poetry Contest. She holds an MA in Museums and Heritage from the University of Amsterdam. 
Art: Donna Morello, Collage 
  
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