a poem by rio cortez

Darius 


1.

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
of pink-cheeked-other-Ruckers


2.

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.