Joshua Garcia | Poetry
At a birthday dinner, a painter says sex is like death,
that we all want to die, & she asks me why
I think this might be. She is developing a glossary
for these wonders, found in nature & in the abstraction of our bodies.
I carry death. I am flattened against a seascape
channeling words for my hallucinations.
Above me a sail lifts, spreads its heft like a boastful wing.
Its mast roots into me, pierces me with wind.
This is desire: a cross between that which fixes us into place
& sets us aflight. I can hardly bear to look it in the face.
In the morning, snow lies flat along the rooftops
like one hundred bed sheets, white flags taunting me.
Joshua Garcia’s debut collection, Pentimento, is forthcoming with Black Lawrence Press (2024). His poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in The Georgia Review, Ninth Letter, North American Review, Ploughshares, and elsewhere. He holds an MFA from the College of Charleston and was a 2021-22 Stadler Fellow at Bucknell University. He lives and writes in Brooklyn, New York.