It's #tbt! Enjoy this great one from SWWIM Every Day's archives!
Our dwindling pink, something like sovereignty, our pillows stuffed with fables. We were acrobats too young to fathom the constraints of the body—your bad knees, my selfish need to rise. Outside, the crabgrass spreading like scripture. Our father will abandon this land too, will call it unsaveable. Still, I stretch my arms as if receiving. You nest in hush, and lift.
Leslie Sainz is a first generation Cuban-American, born and raised in Miami, Florida. The recipient of a 2021 National Endowment for the Arts Poetry Fellowship, she received her MFA in poetry from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from the Yale Review, New England Review, Kenyon Review Online, AGNI, jubilat, Narrative, and others. A two-time National Poetry Series finalist, she’s received scholarships, fellowships, and honors from CantoMundo, The Miami Writers Institute, The Adroit Journal, and The Stadler Center for Poetry & Literary Arts at Bucknell University. She is the managing editor of the New England Review.
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