for Nohemi
Friends: I apologize for addressing you all at once like this, and for not calling or writing a letter. Remember, talking: that’s what the bars are for. If you don’t hear from me it is because of a conversation I am having either with myself or some streetlamp of a man, posted in his ways every night. I have moved; you may guess where and how, and tell me what life you would have me lead. Some follow their hearts; I follow the moon. Allow me my phases and you will have your tides. I write tonight not to tell you of a new city but to share what the new city would say of me, and seeing as I do not speak the language of cities, I send this image as proof that part of me is yet alive: a smile, a dress, the light rising off the back of a hand covering my eyes.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 16, Issue 3.
Jose Angel Araguz has had work most recently in Barrow Street, Gulf Coast, Slipstream, and Right Hand Pointing. He is presently pursuing a PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Cincinnati.
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