Tighter
Longing to reclaim lost time
never the same dust,
I feel the wind of their stories,
stand taller than my own house,
warm pillars I kept near crumble,
her arms flake onto mine,
I start to clench tighter,
he’s already made room,
I’ve only just started growing,
the walking stick was planted,
there is an orange koi pond,
as I am reminded when it rains,
they watch attentively,
soak it all in,
a vacuum where his vest was,
the pressure has ’em holding tighter,
it came for me much longer after,
I pulled all-nighters and wrote elegies,
stood wrinkled under blue light,
making out silhouettes in my floaters,
if I could burn them into my vision,
but the ashes long settled;
columbarium of stolen memories,
I hold the ocean when I close my eyes,
but the door was closed tighter.
— Chicano poet from Southern California
This is the fourth poem, “TIGHTER,” from my eleventh poetry collection, IN TW*NTY.
