you’re promised a new language and a bike—you get both but at a price
you grow up without much love but plenty of spite
and if we can determine anything with mathematics
it states that you must work inside parentheses first,
keep the same denominator--
understand that subtraction subtracted from itself is addition
and if we multiply we end up with more than we can swallow;
even if we’re starving,
our mouths can only hold so much
small town Los Angeles,
suburbia helps the increase of stupid human population
no one can keep their legs closed,
because love, I’ve heard, lives in warm places
and we are all so fucking deficient, we live spread-eagled.
this country is an illusion,
an allusion of that great speech we quote when we need reminders,
“And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.”
I turn back,
and a long road sings her songs
I look forward,
and a new song
begs for mercy.
Ingrid M. Calderon-Collins is an immigrant from El Salvador. Her work has been featured online and in print publications. She was the hostess of the monthly poetry reading series, “They’re Just Words” at Book Show in Highland Park, CA from 2017-2019. Currently, she runs both a literary magazine called “RESURRECTION mag,” and a podcast entitled “Xennial Rants,” on Spotify. She is the author of fourteen books. She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband, painter John Collins.
Uncovered logs from the distant past and the future beyond.