A family of tickings whir
in white strata.
Bellies wet and buoyant,
backs dry and dawdling.

What do we sing in our families
that isn’t already playing? Colored buoys
collapse when unlined, it is unclear
how long fireflies take to cool.

You lift your feet back before
the square shadows.
Incising brothers
yet to be yours.

You lift your feet back banquet
in the air. Signs flash heat
surging to your beak.
Too far you are cloud,

too close you are overused cotton.
A twig between my teeth.
You lift your feet back backwards
like a bull heading for its lover.

Your lover lost in the crowd
and hungry, tapping rocks
to free up water.
The beach, a sound cemetery.

Meager-eyed ’til night,
when hills flatten
under sutured sky and sometimes
a signal is mistaken for a sign.

Natasha Mijares is an artist, writer, curator, and educator. She received her MFA in Writing from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She has exhibited at MECA International Art Fair in Puerto Rico, Sullivan Galleries, TCC Chicago, and Locust Projects. She has been published in Container, Calamity, Vinyl Poetry, and Bear Review.

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