Alexis Orgera



The Red Dress


My wedding day is a cliff

over a black, black sea.


Swirling sea.



Men in Speedos jump from up here

into the water,


but the water

is so far away some men miss


and fall like discarded pants

to the volcanic rock


jutting in fists

out of the sea.


A body floats to the surface—

from up here in the empty


adobe church

I can see the surface


and I can see the body, jelly white

with black, black sores.


My dress is a red tablecloth.

The bridesmaids are strangers, small dark


women to whom I cannot speak.

I thank them


for joining my part,

and they nod and nod


and smile and all the while

those men are flying.