The Defeat of Sophia by Seneca Basoalto

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The Defeat of Sophia

We took turns exchanging earthquakes in the bathroom 

               kiss me, New Mexico – the tattoo of el diablo 

               spanning her back, knocking on strangers doors

               because every house looks the same

Silhouette Sophia, a gold dust turned flush when the sky 

parodies the value that paints her mouth

               A placental abruption / one stanza memorized 

from the bible, only spoken in Spanish and congregated like a 

love poem passing from one fingerprint to the next

It’s written all over her freckles, a constellation fish and cheap cerveza 

accented with finger-sucking Tajin she transfers to my mouth; no one 

                knew she could play the cello, or liked to break into her father’s 

house and steal his shoes – out of spite, she never finished anything 

other than an orgasm        but her vocals were versatile and hum like lush gossip 

I saw things I’ve never seen again – a crescent moon waist with doubts 

and disability, abandoned and palpitating, 102 degrees of afterglow, 
               She still smells like her grandmother’s kitchen.

Seneca Basoalto

Seneca Basoalto is a student of Psychology and Philosophy, aiding in (and confusing) her histrionic observations of her personal relationships. With 23 years of creative writing experience – plus a background in the backstage music/movie scene – she’s congregated many strange experiences and used them to fuel her gutsy, insightful writings. You can most likely find her listening to records, shouting at people from her car, or experimenting with soup. For now she resides in the Black Hills. You can read more of Seneca’s work at