“Hard Times at LAX” by Tricia Lopez

Hard Times at LAX

We went to go pick up my dad, the fields
of light, the cars were silent hums in space.
I saw my dad come down the steps, his face
appeared from distant visions, not so healed.
What humid kisses sank his cheeks, so sealed
that there was a strange man taking his place?
We waved and walked back to the car — no trace
of tears that flood. Small cracks cover the shield.
And I still can’t rest on how plants will grow
if her hands are folded in the earth
and how the wind will keep its gentle blow.
Dad sits without a mom, love now cursed
into the final words that have a hold
with stars. The drive back home felt like new birth.

Tricia Lopez

Tricia Lopez is a Nicaraguan and Salvadoran writer from Los Angeles. She has had poems, stories, and author interviews published in Dryland, The Acentos Review, Rabid Oak, The Hellebore, Marias At Sampaguitas and other places. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Mount Saint Mary's University. Before that, when she was an undergraduate at Woodbury University, she was one of the founding editors of this magazine. You can find her on Instagram @trvcvv.l.

Headshot: Tricia Lopez

Photo Credit: Staff