Ezequiel’s pick-up truck is as warm
As an exit-wound. I tell him this. The
Music roars and winds, I believe this
To be another type of wind.
Ezequiel’s reassurances are enough.
He licks the wet sweat from my thigh
& tells me that’s another kind
Of nature’s medicine. That I won’t die.
Ezequiel’s will to strengthen me, to
Touch my chalked-cheeks. O I become
The protagonist & berate his fingers
From inching any closer. Leave!
Ezequiel’s eyes watching me bleed
On a carpeted floor; mosaic, colorful,
& I wonder if that’s another kind-of
Beauty: us, dying. Neither a savior.
Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Carve Magazine, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, Redivider Journal, Maudlin House, and others. His Twitter & Instagram can be found @shesnotinsorry