The Poetry Brothel
× Store Locations

Gabriela Mancuso as Tempest Amora


Character Biography

The late Tempest Amora is like a rainstorm in the darkest night. When she died of a broken heart the underworld didn’t know what to do with such powerful fervor. She, like the manic fires of Hades, beacons and begs for wild passion to remove her from the shadows. But she, a ghost, will never be free from the darkness.

Professional Biography

Gabriela Mancuso is a student at Emerson College in Boston, MA studying Writing, Literature, and Latin American Studies. Her typically bilingual work has been featured in Columbia University's Pre- College Magazine, MobilityMovilidad's Proyecto Carrito Student- Worker mobile collective, and Emerson College’s Latin American Literary Magazine Raíz. She has formerly worked with the Poetry Society of New York's Typewriter Project, The New York Poetry Festival, and has performed at The Poetry Society of New York's Poetry Brothel, and The Massachusetts Poetry Festival’s Poetry Bordello under the name "Tempest Amora".

 

Fire

Preface: “Sana sana colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanaras mañana.” is a common
Spanish saying that children learn when they are little. It is what an adult will say to a child
(typically a mother to her child) when they hurt themselves, while rubbing the wound better.

Boy of skin,
duelo por ti.
Con tu fuego
yo quiero bailar.
 
Bomb on cara,
sangre de cama
leche con carne
que no se cansa
 
My heels gritando
            suplicando
against the grounds of your festival.
 
Agua caliente
down your chin
wedges in
like splinter
            llora niña llora.
 
La Ceremonia of Salt
in the red, raw
 
chant when you leave
            “Sana sana colita de rana
            Si no sanas hoy, sanaras mañana.”

 

 

Translation:

Preface: “Sana sana colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanaras mañana.” is a common
Spanish saying that children learn when they are little. It is what an adult will say to a child
(typically a mother to her child) when they hurt themselves, while rubbing the wound better.

Boy of skin
I ache for you
I want to dance
with your fire.
 
Bomb on face,
blood of the bed,
milk with meat
that doesn’t get tired.

My heels screaming

begging
against the grounds of your festival.

Hot water
down your chin
wedges in
like splinter
            cry girl cry.

The Ceremony of Salt
in the red, raw

chant when you leave
            “Heal heal little frog’s tail
            If you don’t heal today you’ll heal tomorrow.”