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By Raquel Reyes-Lopez

If I have to be louder
than a whisper, I hope
my dreams teach me
the words I’ll need to
practice, so I can reach
the terminal of his lips.

I don’t want to cut,
push, or fight off
those in line ahead
of me.

I’m not here to seek
reassurance on why
I should be loved or
how to love myself.

I just want to learn
how to bend my joints
without them hurting
when I press my body
onto the railings
of his lungs.

I’ll sing into them
in Spanish tranquilo,
no te muevas. Aqui
estoy. Mirame.

If that’s enough
for him to stay
I’ll finally know
what it feels like
to no longer want
hummingbirds
to teach me how
to fly backwards.

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