1999 by Israel A. Bonilla

To see in the world a narrative one needs loss.
It is only then that the halt awakens a yearning for sense.
Half-hearted hands become a mainspring; disjointed calls, transitions.
We now reside above the frenzied outflows,
industrious masons who grow skeptical of movement.
It is the loaded truck and the run down engine
I think about when the end comes to mind.



Israel A. Bonilla lives in Guadalajara, Jalisco. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Able MuseBULL, Hawk & WhippoorwillExpanded FieldFEEDÁgoraLetralia, and elsewhere.


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