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FOUR WAY REVIEW

Alfredo Aguilar is the son of Mexican immigrants. He is the author of the forthcoming chapbook, What Happens On Earth (BOAAT Press, 2018). His work has appeared or is forthcoming in The Iowa Review, The Shallow Ends, Best New Poets 2017 & elsewhere. He lives in North County San Diego. photo: Laura Villareal

TWO POEMS by Alfredo Aguilar

Thursday, 15 November 2018 by Alfredo Aguilar

ONE WAY IN—ONE WAY OUT

during the fire, i thought only of closed roads—
lines of cars redirected to find another way

in or out. while the mountain above them burned,
a couple jumped into their water tank to save themselves.

i turned on every sprinkler & placed a few on the roof.
i sat on top of my house, dry terrain on all sides,

breathing the ash-rain & smoke. perhaps i should have
been more concerned. perhaps i should have packed

my letters & left. perhaps i was too cavalier.
i thought myself willing to go down with the house.

it was in fact, not bravado, but a life that did not know loss.
on an old ranch, when the stables caught fire

& there was no chance of rescuing them, all the horses
were loosened. i imagined them wild eyed & panicked.

a stampede emerging from a smoke cloud. the sound
of hooves—an unsaddled stream rushing out

in a single direction with nothing but their lives.

 

 

 

AUBADE

my eyes were bloodshot
                                   from finding spare hours
in the curve of your

                                   collar bone.
you drove me to a flight
                                   & said you hadn’t seen

a sunrise in months.
                                   the sky—a pool
of crushed hibiscus.

                                   i wanted to swim in it
with you. we were quiet
                                   the way anything that leaves

is quiet. you promised
                                   to find me
& i closed the door.

                                   parting is never
the ceremony we wish
                                   it were—someone is there

& then they’re not.
                                   i sat in a terminal
& felt the sun

                                   through large windows.
i thought of your hand
                                   squeezing mine in sleep.

how one night you turned
                                   away from me so that
i wouldn’t see you cry.

                                   & later beneath a blanket
we hummed lullabies
                                   to one another.

you placed me
                                   in a cold empty sky not
because you wanted to,

                                   but because i asked you to.

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  • Published in Issue 14
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