Monday, April 23, 2012
a poem by rio cortez
I don’t remember my name
Everybody calls me Hootie.
Before, we took their Rucker and it rang
across the steepled skyline of Holy City.
Today, I go nicknamed into the locker
room at Calaway Golf Club
and hear my voice pour warped
through the wall-mounted speaker box.
Ain’t it yours? Didn’t I
swallow it whole once
and now it renews from the mount
like a head dipped under water.
What other tool could usher me from this land
I buy my very first camel
suede jacket and in the beginning
I borrowed size 8 cowboy boots
and we would cover R.E.M. songs
in our integrated dorm room.
I know what I am
in this turquoise bolo tie
I don’t even have to name it.
Rio Cortez is a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College, where she received the Lucy Grealy Prize in Poetry. She is a Cave Canem fellow and MFA candidate at NYU. Her work has appeared in Clementine, Cratelit, Tidal Basin Review & upcoming in Sugar House Review. Born & raised in Salt Lake City, she loves & lives in Queens, NY.