by Alfredo Aguilar
& the child who never stopped running grew
up to become the wind. left behind their body
& its boulders to blow ships across the water & spin
the lone weathervane on the barn. the girl who spent
days making birds from lighting & clay to feel less
alone became a god. there were a thousand hands
reaching to her for an answer, but never her palms.
the boy whose grief was too big for his body became
the ocean. everyone knew the shape of his sorrow & we all
thrashed our way out of him after breaking the glass
surface. the baby born with holes in their skin let the breeze
weave through their body, let a hundred notes rise into
the air, & grew up to be a song. the child so desperate
to be near those far away reached into the sky & became
smoke. the child who continued to love unbittered
by this world became the sun. he rises every morning to cover
the earth in light & look how he has never dimmed.
Alfredo Aguilar is the son of Mexican immigrants. His is the author of the forthcoming chapbook RECUERDO (YesYes Books). His work has appeared in Anomaly, Winter Tangerine, Vinyl, & elsewhere. He lives in North County San Diego.