by Vyxz Vasquez

No Memory

But joy
to chase it as kids
rush out after
sleep to play
whirl around
for cotton frags
stretching necks
to finally see one
snatch it
before anybody else
does make a fist
to let it
breathe and not
squash the hardly
tangible
to hold it with eyes
closed utter
a wish (for a toy
mommy Forever)
and blow strong
that the wind
carries it
with it
and becomes
true

Where we Come From

Bee? Bug? Barnyard? A bamboo, perhaps. A mother
could say now. Biology settles for easy answers:
the sound a wave makes as it breaks down
your shadow or something that looks it. What delight only
a baby completes: ten fingers, ten toes wiggling,
that tiny head intact even as we cannot afford this life.
No matter. Your loud breathing exists, the grunt of
an endless afternoon. I wish I could not speak
as well as you do, wave to the air, a motion of
close (no words) open (heart full), and
together take away this sigh of happiness, like
water, coming from all directions to be with you. My parents,
the little time left, they have taken to saving
to come here, relive the magic of young selves,
use an ultrasound and make life visible.

Use an ultrasound and make life visible
to come here, relive the magic of young selves,
the little time left. They have taken to saving
water, coming from all directions to be with you. My parents,
together. Take away this sigh of happiness, like
(close) no words, (open) heart full, and
as well as you do, wave to the air, a motion of
an endless afternoon. I wish I could not speak.
No matter. Your loud breathing exists, the grunt of
that tiny head intact. Even as we cannot afford this life,
a baby completes. Ten fingers, ten toes wiggling
your shadow or something that looks it. What delight? Only
the sound a wave makes as it breaks down
could say now. Biology settles for easy answers:
bee, bug, barnyard, a bamboo. Perhaps a mother.

Suppression/Suspension

Let’s forget the way fireworks danced on your face that night–
forget that instead of looking up, I was looking at the light

bloom on your cheek. Otherwise, it is black. Let’s forget the rave
for makeshift lightning, illuminating the coldest of summer waves

that gently and briefly blanketed the shore, forget the display
did not mean to outshine crowded stars or be the absent day’s

blinker. Maybe forget, too, the scent of saltwater on your skin
or the way we buried our feet in the sand, waiting for the show to begin

as siren noises carried over by the wind, across the island sing
of the reds and blues the ambulance reflected on your body, sing

after the midnight you left. You were alone, something everyone tries
to only imagine now, but in my dream, you were looking at the sky

and time, not wanting anyone to know, hid as our hands held each other,
fingers interlaced in the dark, this luminous patch of wonder.

No Memory & Other Poems