IRIS M MORA
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False Love

Why is it that the more we have, 
the more we want to protect and retain?

How many television sets 
protect our needs? 

How many shoes 
protect our desire? 

How many plates 
stand between arrows 

that want to break our hearts? 
Things make people happy. 

How many things 
have hugged you in the night?


© Iris M Mora 2018

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​Photo credit dreamstime.com

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​Photo credit dreamstime.com



First Trimester 

Winter-
mothers’ milk for spring.​​

© Iris M Mora 2018
​



​Jedi Master 

Before Rey met Luke Skywalker, 
there was another young girl who met a Jedi master. 
Long ago, when lightsabers were made of hide, 
and moons turned red at the direction of princess Leia 
as she restrained the Sith from taking a hold of the young girl's soul. 


The Jedi master taught this girl the force.
Eat your food, he would say, 
for there are children who go hungry.
Go take a shower. Eliminate harmful bacteria from your body.
Behave, or I will call the storm troopers. 
Clean your room. An orderly life 
keeps you from behaving badly. 
Do your homework so you get good grades,
that way you can succeed.
Wash the dishes. Help your mother. 
It’s your obligation, your duty. 
Respect your elders. You might just learn something.
Don’t fight with your brothers and sisters. 
They have the same blood, and are in Jedi training too. 
Say please and thank you. Educate yourself. Learn.

​The young girl turned into woman. 
Now, Jedi herself, she waits for her trainee. 
One evening, as she practiced with her glow-in-the-dark lightsaber, Obi-Wan Kenobi appeared to her. 
​
Long ago, he said, I taught your Jedi Master 
the most important lesson a Jedi will ever learn. 
What’s that? she asked, wondering when it will be her turn. 
One must live with patience. Everything comes in time to a Jedi,
even teaching the ways of the force. 

© Iris M Mora 2017
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Photo credit dreamstime.com

"AI Guide To Your Human" 
Experimental Sci-Fi piece published in 
​Dodging The Rain


online literary magazine
June 30, 2017
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"Crossing the Needle"
Poem published in Dodging The Rain
online literary magazine
February 1, 2017

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"Death as a Woman" 
Poem published in Into The Void
Arts and Literary magazine
April 15, 2017
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​
​Death as a Woman

If death was a woman
            her hair would be the gush of gunpowder
                        discharged from leaded bullets
                        left inside the bodies of men who mocked her.
                        Her sight would radiate
            the genetic code of pestilence
released by coagulating tears
from eyes as black as a child’s fear.
Her arms would stretch as long as swords
            doubled edged flesh, molded by raw bones
                        and instead of fingers, appendages of sculpted stones
would clank like castanets as she sliced souls.
Her body would be a cascade of deep-blue water
spewing salted vomit, drowning anyone
who neared her rotating heart
            impaling them on untruths.
            Her legs would be isotopes and hydrogen,
            producing bombs that would go off from her toes
            and thrust into her womb animals, plants, and humans
            who once lived at the mercy of intellectuals that were wrong. 

© Iris M Mora 2017

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Three Poems
"Green," "Bowl to Bowl" and "War"

Published in The Galway Review
November 28, 2015

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"Afraid"
Poem published in ROPES
2016 24th Edition
April 20, 2016

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"Mayan Slave"
Poem published in
SIN Student Newspaper
Vol 17, Issue 08
January 26, 2016


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"The Universe Bakes A Cake"
Poem published in The Cypress Dome Literary Magazine,
Spring 2015/Issue #26
April 21, 2015

The Universe Bakes a Cake

Stirring clockwise, she whisks white clouds that cling
to the edges of a mature galaxy: a mixture of gas, dust and oils.

In thought, she walks with time; wearing light years,
flaunting seconds, minutes, and estimating hours.

A quilted shield protects her wrinkled hands from a star filled oven,
where liquids transform yellows, and browns,
into sculpted atmospheric layers.

Enclosed in a sphere of degrees,
the moist deposits swell, as their cores evaporate, releasing
a blend of burned caramel, and Heaven’s sweet spice.

While the planet bakes, encrusted mountains erupt
as proteins are molded, into a living creation.

When the earth cools,                                                           
she rests.

Before a new light glimmers,
                        buttercream is sprayed on the molded sphere,

wrapping its crust of golden sand with flakes of packed snow.
                        Fruits are dispersed over the land

with speckles of dirt, mint leafs, and nectar in between.

As the light of the sun begins to slowly melt its wax,
she hears singing voices fill the air-more than one can count.

When the singing voices multiply, thoughts
of her approaching death looms near, challenging in her mind.

In time, the flickering sun is taunted,
obscured by the breath of her carbon dioxide shadows-
it’s no longer able to sustain a pure, developed land.

When she dies, a hot breath will blow the red, white, and blue candle,
extinguishing the singing voices, and its piercing rays of light.
 

© Iris M Mora 2015

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