another country
|
This is the name for
the funeral we never had for you or the you I used to be: your body, grass two dandelions in the mouth of a rock, the bitter green leaves that give life & continue & continue to give regardless of what seeds take root Fixed, that face I knew before your glass-filled lungs, two sacks of rattling crystals, black tourmaline eyes & two pennies for lids, your mouth an orange flower a face I didn’t know I loved until it was not the same form & nothing not the earth nor the sky not the bullet or machine could make dirt back into you |
|
Esteban Ismael teaches diversity literature and writing workshops with San Diego Continuing Education. In 2016, he was awarded First Prize in Poetry in Dogwood and named a Second Rounder in the Austin Film Festival’s teleplay competition. His poems are forthcoming or have recently appeared in Spillway, Conduit, Solstice Literary Magazine, The Journal, Puro Chicanx Writing of the 21st Century, Poetry Daily, and The Massachusetts Review, among other fine journals.