by C.T. Salazar
you’re still here opal in the creek begging by and by I reach across (to / almost touch you) here’s history but bear with me, it’s bloody God said be light + the crocus the honeysuckle the callalily we used our hands for the worst of it we fell into a pile of brown leaves that was mostly moths + collected rainwater in copper-bottomed pots this isn’t the history I mentioned this is rain washing into the radio, a voice hitting static like birds flying into laundry I put my ear to your chest clouds like rams you undo the evening with your hands alone you don’t have to apologize + light wept down I know even if you stay, a lonely pink sky would wound us so ____
C.T. Salazar is a Latinx poet and librarian from Mississippi. He’s the author of Headless John the Baptist Hitchhiking, forthcoming from Acre Books in 2022. He’s the 2020 recipient of the Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters Award in poetry. His poems have appeared in The Rumpus, Cincinnati Review, Beloit Poetry Journal, Denver Quarterly, 32 Poems, and elsewhere.