This is Required


the intake of the atmosphere, the water’s touch,
its crucible, all the egos & the constant letting go of


reason. The primate, preternatural to its study
of scalp & leaves, ants & termites caved too deep for


the handed animal. So stay a something other,
like a bulrush-covered crane, bent at the knee, hid.


Not the long praise of horses & flags galloped over
the cliff to become ash in mid fall. Say again the tenet:


Lord of nostrils, take me all in. Mother
gullet, gulp me down, bit by bit.


Speciation takes, for the glowed fish to legend
& us resonating from placenta to last gasps of air,


pull is a light & asks: find me, like truth, like moon.
Says, be twain, flail & divvy up again.


About the Author

Carlo André is a South American migrant and LGBTQ+ advocate. His work has been featured in Pidgeonholes, Palaver, Sand Journal, Poems2Go and others. He resides in the Gulf Coast of Florida along with his partner and their chihuahua miniature pinscher.