by Bailey Cohen
Cuando era un niño, I spoke
with a softer voice. We all flew
so ignorantly of the ground
and the muscle tendons in our backs.
Like Icarus, I am winged
only sometimes. No puedo volar
so instead I fall as deliberately as I can.
Like a coward, I wish to die
in my sleep. To float & then
keep floating. To wisp away,
leaving nothing but tastes
of salt and vanilla. My people have
always cared too little
of the velocity of burning.
Look! Today is so blue and sky-filled!
I can almost see your grandmother.
Mira! Hijo, tenemos the entire world
if we just keep walking a little bit more.
I know you want to fly,
but can’t you feel
the grass between your toes?
té recuerdas the first prayer I ever
How the words
through your feathers
Bailey Cohen is a first generation Ecuadorian-American poet studying English Literature, Politics, and Creative Writing as an undergraduate student at New York University. His work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Projector Magazine, The Minetta Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, and more. He can be found on Twitter, where he actively shares poems, @BaileyC213. He loves everyone Latinx.