THREE POEMS by ANDRÉS SALAS
May 13 2025
District
My father is
‘by far the best announcer
in the district’
of high school soccer.
Athletes jade green and gray
over a darker greener pitch,
massing before creaky aluminum
and a concrete wave,
under an overcast March sky.
At times a goal and a number
and a last name
static-ring from the high
shipping container.
The clarity of an
intra-district legend
He’ll be asked to return
next year.
Tatsuki Fujimoto
A pressed white dress-shirt and a black tie,
loop loose around un-stained collar,
around breathing white neck.
The shirt helps contrast blood,
and neon light -
the tie-dye yellow and red
of my favorite city.
And you have the blackest hair I’ve ever held,
its gloss reflects chalk white,
and now, since we’ve started these patrols together,
I hope I lose my arm
- I know you would find it funny.
I will eat what meat you feed me;
I hope you’ll stick around - I know now that
the latent powers grow out faster with adrenaline;
cigarettes don't hurt my stomach anymore.
You have some issues
you should sort through soon.
you get too little sleep -
it turns you manic.
I’m telling you to quit your job,
or else we won’t enjoy
our Sunday,
and your face’s tastefully dysgenic figuration
won’t last long in my memory,
and won’t be worth the bone-saw to my shoulder
or my ghost pains,
or my fight with your boss
for your hand.
2/18/25 corecore
earnest | look back
million like | earned
knife attack | work hours
page thousand | ok
algorithm
| mom’s Alzheimer’s
| male friends
| buddies
| anon Chinese metro
real me | on the chest
fintech | phantom blip
cliché | jump Vessel
break dance | owned space
algorithm
| girl girl girl
| indoors girl
| girl city
| girl (Chinese)
rapier | meadowed | hope
spire gothic | lashes | Rome
my little brother might see this one
leg white lace | shadow | sync
Andrés Salas is a poet living in Queens.