by Daniel Espinosa
With this time
I’ve made friends, brothers,
strangers, lovers, and
most of each into the other.
I’ve been made myself
by you, and no such
alchemy can make you back—
no one can sow flaw
so deep as you, no one
can hold me as long as you,
much less by the sides
and bottom. No one can
explain to me I won’t die
from an erection anymore.
I confess I’m no longer an artist,
your faces unknown to most,
and after this many it’s still
unclear how many words
a poem is worth. But when
you tell me how cold it’s been
getting, ask again if I’ve eaten,
I know how many it’s not,
and I write this still
because to make is to love
so much every god let go
a perfect world for its sake.
I write this to show you,
name you, be the first thing
you ever see.
Daniel Espinosa is a painter-turned-writer living in Austin, TX. His work appears in O, Miami Poetry Festival’s collection Waterproof: Evidence of a Miami Worth Remembering eulogizing his hometown of the Magic City. He enjoys film, card game design, and cloudless days among many other things.
Emerge Literary Journal 