by Zachary Caballero
Gratitude is the only face
I know God.
God I know.
I am twenty-two
I am twenty-two and everything is new again.
To be a side-effect of spring
to be brought by spring
is this why the bloom greets me
pretty on my knees?
It is Sunday and it is Spring in Austin
and I am on my knees,
I sit under a tree and share the shade with three men
with three dogs,one each.
Rocket, Charlie, Sonic.
Their names were
When, they all ran too fast and too far
these men would not scream, or shout, or shatter
but instead, would whistle with wonder and ask, Sweetheart, where are you?
And I think that’s significant.
The most beautiful woman I have ever known
or seen…Okay. Maybe it’s the most beautiful woman
I have seen today. But oh,
isn’t that the same? And oh
now she is smiling and feeding me cupcakes and now I am caving
like my grandfather’s veins that diatribe
insulin, cause the sugar don’t wanna stay inside.
So, these days I swallow honey. I remember a poster
in my elementary school saying “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Or was it bee holder? I am twenty-two now and decide it is bee-holder.
It is still Sunday, and me and Rocket
share a spot in the shade because we
get it. Oh we get it.
When I get up to leave, he looks at me
as if he were to ask, sweetheart, where are you going?
I look back at him and smile, as if I were to say,
I am going weightless.
And suddenly I can’t feel my body
Suddenly I am weightless.
Wait. I spoke too soon (sometimes,
the tongue is a trick I have to trace back
to get.) I feel my body encouraging
itself. I feel my body beginning again
so now I am worryless. The funny thing is,
I wrote that that into my phone and even it
tries to correct the word to worthless.
I feel my body now so now I am worthless?
What an absurd sentence.
I am the 22nd
edition of myself and still feel vintage.
That isn’t an absurd sentence, it’s
just a privilege to say. When
Gratitude is the only face of God
you know, and it is Sunday and you
are your mother’s son and your mother
is her mother, you know it’s
just a privilege to pray like you do. Like everything you do
has allowed you to make the spring of yourself
true, and why don’t you swallow that for a bit.
Trace the tongue back, so you can get it.
Most people do not know how to eat
and therefore cannot pray like this.
They assume it’s in the chew
“I am the 22nd
edition of myself and still feel vintage.”
that is a truly wonderful line. those entire last two stanzas! just wow. so wonderful.