THE SHAPE OF A FOG
It was in the water, the shape
Of a fog. Surrounding me with ambiguity.
Western shadows. I had so many questions.
A begging dog. A valley flowered in spring—
Hanging in the air. A drag queen // changing as
a ghost in the driveway—
Expecting nothing from the fog. Every iron soul—
Like a bone made of steel. If only weather could move
mountains of darkness…
The lightweight flees, steady in the
Fountain of my brain. This is it!
The softest almond perished on the soil.
We are not growing anymore. The
Belly we try to sell on AliExpress. The loss of appeal.
The snaps nobody sees on Snapchat. The world
of men– In the hands of
We are cerulean waters. The sea—
Like a dewy cloud of tragedy. The insults
Breaking our jaws. The fog abroad—
And somebody bleeding in the playground. To grab a smile
during the phenomenon.
Another school shooting on the news. The shape
Of a rattlesnake. Obscurity. The grayest eel—
choking on her own electricity.
The virgin lake shimmering. A venom queen,
The murderer of the green; opened for snow. The fog I
cannot stop from expanding. Lonely and young
Kevin Eguizabal is a new poet born in El Salvador. He lives in Silver Spring, MD, where he is an undergraduate student at Prince George’s community college. His poetry deals with the impact of modern American culture and feeling boxed in a never-ending tragedy. This is his first major appearance in a literary magazine.
Cover Design by Karen Rile