by which I mean what comes to mind
now and squeezes my throat
are those nights together
on the floor of the living room
the ridiculously large C.D./tape
combo between us and the C.D.s
you scammed from Columbia House
music club. How many times did we hit
repeat on Chris Isaak’s “Somebody’s
Crying” and Guns and Roses
“November Rain,” the only song
on that album we liked. A girl song,
Bobby, the floppy-haired neighbor boy,
told us. And so fucking what? We were
girls. Two girls warmed by the heat
of the other’s skin, laying
parallel on that scruffy carpet, watching
the waking sun peak through the windows.
How many nights did we not sleep,
choosing instead to plan out a future
neither of us could actually picture,
only one of us would
live long enough to try for.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 1.
Sarah A. Chavez, a mestiza born and raised in the California Central Valley, is the author of the poetry collections, Hands That Break & Scar (Sundress Publications) and All Day, Talking (dancing girl press). Her new project, Halfbreed Helene Navigates the Whole received a 2019-2020 Tacoma Artists Initiative Award, as well as 2021 residencies at Dorland Mountain Arts Colony & the Macondo Writers Workshop. Chavez teaches creative writing and Latinx/Chicanx-focused courses at the University of Washington Tacoma and serves as the poetry coordinator for Best of the Net Anthology.
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