Our dwindling pink,
something like sovereignty,
our pillows stuffed
We were acrobats
too young to fathom the constraints
of the body—your bad knees,
my selfish need to rise.
Outside, the crabgrass spreading
like scripture. Our father will abandon
this land too, will call it unsaveable.
Still, I stretch
my arms as if receiving.
You nest in hush,
Leslie Sainz is a first-generation Cuban-American, born and raised in Miami, Florida. A CantoMundo Fellow, she received her MFA in poetry from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, where she was the Editor-in-Chief of Devil’s Lake. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Black Warrior Review, Hayden’s Ferry Review, The Journal, Southern Humanities Review, and others. She was the Fall 2017 Writer-in-Residence at the Hub City Writers Project, and will serve as a 2018-2019 Stadler Fellow.