PORTEND

 

October echoes in a series of blue lights. Look up-
a man plays a trumpet welcoming in apocalypse, reaching

he says: My God! The saved are saved! I am standing
in the bleached light of the underpass, the hum of

mechanical engines carves shapes into the concrete. I say
I lived here. The air is so raw it hurts. I remember

loving someone enough for that. To turn the air. To
usher in. Another life altogether. God is coming, says the man.

And all I can think about is skin. My tongue trips out of
my mouth, still rambling on about mosquitoes in

early September. Out by the pond with the fountain
ruining our quiet and everyone lined up by the edge.

We do not step off. We don’t talk or move a muscle
outside we are already stripped bare.

I would love you. It wouldn’t even take an ending to do it
but you need to say it first. Say you know

what I want. Say you’ll give it to me. Say you’ll mean it
for a while at least. I am building a tunnel out of

wood and bone. I never say the right thing- still standing
at the bottom of the stairs hating anyone who dared

to be loved more than I was. I read a story where a girl dug her nails
into concrete. Her father drowned kittens in a bucket. He said

God took them. God gave me hands. God gave me nothing.
God gave me birds and took them away. That is what flying is for.

I lived here. I am talking about the apple trees. I am talking about
sequoias about the earth reaching up until it ends.

I am standing on highest point in town saying God still won't
take me!
It is night. And so cool. I have been telling lies

so no one speaks my language. My honesty cannot bear me. Faceless. It affords me nothing. I am on the rooftop running

at the edge until my feet bleed or the wind catches.
This is what flying is for. Take me! My hand reaches out until it ends.

I have been telling lies. Imagine a house somewhere outside
the city. Imagine you live there. Only a few hours.

Only a dirty bus. Only two dollars and fifty cents between me
and where I can stay

only a little while. We drink coffee. We quiet church bells.
We make a fire and we put it out.

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ISSUE 2 ART 2 -  3.jpg

REYNA N.A. IN CONVERSATION

 

...there’s this moment in the movie when the lead’s son, haunted by Freddy Krueger, climbs to the top of the tallest slide at the playground and just sort of reaches upward.

READ FULL CONVERSATION HERE