Mykki Rios is a queer genderfluid Mexican-American poet, performer and multimedia artist. Raised in Chicago, and having lived many places across the globe, Mykki has had works featured in issues of Welter, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, Random Sample Review, Smoke and Mold Journal, Lupercalia Press' Vulcanalia anthology, and more. They were also a finalist in Lupercalia Press' 2022 Chapbook Series Contest.

lip gloss triptych

mykki rios

One:
candy apple shellac
open to reveal white fangs
a snakebite from the fruit
lethal smile
never serve a house
of men with
tiny minds
never sleep
poised and patient
in a glass coffin
wander the woods until
a mutual wildness sets in
a frenzied togetherness

Two:
stain of fuchsia juice
worn warning
warpaint
in this still body
resides a fight
quiet mountains
scenic canyons
can still hold poison
take care
pressing lips to any
thing growing free
storms roll stealthy
in from nowhere

Three:
frozen strawberry
in a forever field
surrounded
by stasis hibiscus
winter glazed over
summer
kisses alive
only in memories
veiled in nostalgia’s luster
a shimmer ache
like a bruise’s memory
pink diamond threatens
collapse into gel anytime

Four:
whimsical sheen
coral yet blue
lights strobe on
the merry-go-round
a delicate dizzy twirl
sticky sweet pucker
slow dance
candied flowers
floating in lemonade
carnival tents/jello molds
transient palaces of moments
loves hands quiver
holding like letting go kills

Five:
champagne gold
pulse of the disco
luxury for everybody
soot into filigree
night stretches a cat
everyone’s limbs
reaching out like roads
grasping for stars
mirror ball glimmers
brows sizzling sweat bodies
melding indistinguishable
enchantment hovers heavy
each night a waking dream

plumping glosses (an expansion)

Six:
as adults we buy
cosmetics youth scented
birthday cake
cartoon cereal
as kids we stole from vanities
pristine bathroom counters
each tool transformative
this makes lips bigger
this makes eyes wider
this makes a nose smaller
this makes you lighter this darker
this makes you different
without telling a soul

Seven:
the vial says fire
and it burns true
true red like chiles
cherry cola ignition
i used to hate spicy
to rebel as mexican
the way i still can’t do
rainbow as part of my queer
but picante is a state of mind
embers fleck kindling hair
molten tongue throws sparks
come sear by my mouth
char with my words

sweet gloss (a missive)

Eight:
been on this roller coaster
it never really gets old
i tell myself be a statue
you are a passing zephyr
but you kiss me into picturing
sherbet summer dripping into
hot cocoa winter
i’m so love drunk with possibility
you are an open bar
watermelon daiquiri
in five gulps
mezcal and spiced pear i smother
us in sap oozing from my core

ALIEN GLOSS (an astral projection)

Nine:
one part icy surge
one part mint tingle
make out in the dark
warehouse full of fog
throbbing steam bass rattling
ears numbed to everything
by connection of mouths
lips tongues souls
falling into a writhe
intermingling euphoria
break apart breathing hard
infatuation exhales
adding to the indoor cloud

CITRUS GLOSS (a refreshing)

Ten:
tart to a fault
lips smack and pucker
perfume your wrists
with my oils
peel me in spirals
dehydrate me into sugar
ream me juice me
let’s get visceral
make me all zest
this isn’t about pretty words
if i end up sour
i’ll just walk away
satisfied with our aftertaste