What Marlene Dietrich Spilled
Ivy Alvarez
This octopus glares, tentacle trailing, tempting me
to salt and bite. I don’t. I cannot smile.
Kamsahamnida: I bow and bow. A gold dust ounce,
almost worthless, mossed wrist, a violin,
fingers nimble as my hips. Lover, lover, one another.
Sticky, sweet. Scent of cinnamon wraps me in. I spill
money. Hot. Crisp. A liquid fills
my mouth. It warms me inside out. A blonde bear,
I lumber about, following signs, lights, a stranger’s eyes,
a smell I cannot stand. Skin to skin,
pine nuts floating, wood glowing
honey. Come on over. The city beckons,
clears its lungs,
then spits.
From Hollywood Starlet
Available from Dancing Girl Press
Ivy Alvarez’s second poetry collection is Disturbance (Seren, 2013). She is also the author of several shorter collections, including Hollywood Starlet (Chicago: dancing girl press, 2015) and The Everyday English Dictionary (London: Paekakariki Press, 2016). A recipient of writing fellowships from MacDowell Colony, Hawthornden Castle and Fundacion Valparaiso, her work appears in journals and anthologies in many countries and online, with selected poems translated into Russian, Spanish, Japanese and Korean. Born in the Philippines and raised in Australia, she lived in Scotland and Ireland before moving to Cardiff, Wales in 2004 and becoming a British citizen in 2010. She now lives in Auckland, New Zealand. www.ivyalvarez.com
