Months before I turned 17, the river swallowed the park.
Breathless whispers of neighbors filled the streets.
The TV warned of the swell, the river reaching out, embracing the city.
We walked into the neighborhood, curious.
We walked the familiar sidewalks, not knowing what to expect.
The muddied streets and occasional puddles dampening our Vans.
We arrived and watched, silence curling up between us.
We stood at the crest of the rolling hills and saw an ocean.
Childhood memories, sweltering afternoons remedied with paletas,
Smoke curling from grills, the sour notes of beer and cigarettes,
Mingling into something familiar and sweet.
The realization in me, heavy like bedrock, that the past can always be swept away.
I believe poetry can be a way to capture a moment. A memory, a time, a place. I want my poetry to evoke memories and crystalize the intangible, at least for a moment. When someone reads my poems, I want them to know exactly how I was feeling, and maybe see some of their past experiences reflected at them too.
Infrarrealista Review is a literary nonprofit dedicated to publishing Tejanx voices.