Poetry: Diez años después (ten years later) by Angelica Esquivel
Angelica Esquivel writes a song to the insistence of memory and emotion through and in spite of time. In evocative image, each “reminiscent of something else,” we are led into a pursuit of moving on.
Diez años después (ten years later)
and I’m still reeling, waxen
figures on a stomped-out lawn while the
drummer rides a solo. My heart-
underwear strewn like adrenaline,
a stutter of the eyes.
Leaves, little spinas on these dying trees
remind me of your eyelashes and
the day’s soft light reminds me of the last
time this world ended, everything
of something else. There are faces
that look like yours and faces that don’t,
but every set of teeth belongs
to you. I’m not trying to be clever.
I’m trying to move
past this: the mismatch of bodies, a
splendid festival of shame. Teach me
like you. To reach down and pluck up
lovers, how to make myself bloom.
Angelica is a Xicana writer and artist from Fostoria, Ohio. Her work has appeared in America Magazine, Crab Orchard Review, Cream City Review, and Great Lakes Review. She was awarded the 2021 Zocalo Prize in Poetry and the 2022 Roadrunner Review Cover Art Prize. Angelica lives in Ypsilanti, Michigan with her husband and two dogs.