Comments (0) Writing, Featured, Poetry, Issue 5

By Gina Guerra

I reside
in a gradient of magenta and royal blue
where there exists a lavender.
Where my passport reads United States of America
and my tongue’s first memories are in Spanish.
At the intersection of formal proofs
and casual chiasmus.
Near a feathered serpent
who dons a cross.
Teetering, tottering, nearing collapse.

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