La Coqueta
(from the word coquette: a woman who flirts lightheartedly with men to win their admiration and affection; from the Spanish word: a dressing table; a vanity) Nestled in a red chestnut box rain droplets carved out so its contents can breathe my wedding ring resides I hold it in my palm like I did our children’s feet examine their diminutive size knowing they wouldn’t fit there one day today the surface of my dresser, coqueta as my abuela calls it, is covered in rings I have bought since I took off the gold promise of a twenty-four-year-old etched with a heart and initials rings from flea markets in New Orleans wooden ones wielded from the oak bark of another man’s house copper ones with the petroglyph of el coquí burned on ostentatious rings that glitter and shine in the sun and moonlight Nordstrom Rack bargains that cover two of my fingers knuckle busters my coworker calls them always on my right hand anything on the left feels awkward like first dates I collect rings like paramours and dalliances pull them off my fingers and leave them on my coqueta my hands are mine now.
Luivette Resto was born in Aguas Buenas, Puerto Rico, but proudly raised in the Bronx. Her books Unfinished Portrait and Ascension have been published by Tía Chucha Press. Her latest poems can be read in the anthology What Saves Us: Poems of Empathy and Outrage in the Age of Trump.
BACK TO ISSUE