Valentina Cano

I still believe
it was a good thing what we did
that Saturday.
I clutched at strings that
might have snapped without my pull,
and you dug your heels
into a second that
wanted to fling itself backwards.
However it might have ended,
that Saturday shines
like a newly lit match
every time I turn to it,
its echo of light ever brighter.

– Valentina Cano

The man,
visible even through the curtain
of rain that covered
the street like chainmail,
called for a cab.
It neared him like an
underwater beast.
He raised a hand
which trembled
with unspent fears
that swam up his fingers to the tips
of his nails.
Blinking like tired light-bulbs
in the dark.

Valentina Cano

I am able to do
what I promised,
what I told you that
day when the sun pressed
through the cracks in the wall
like lemon rind.
I can do as I whispered
that night in a cavern of a room,
submerged in antique silence.
But I don’t want to anymore.
The moments, the extremes of texture,
have passed,
trailing a veil of bones,
a sigh of ashes.
Leaving me behind.

– Valentina Cano

I happened to see him
as I walked to class.
A figure of smoke,
undulating with darkness,
he stood against a door,
looking in.
My eyes dug like nails
into his hands,
overturning the thoughts
and vials of blood
suspended from my wrists.
There was something I needed to say,
a word to grind out like meat,
but when I opened my mouth,
my teeth fell out,
tinkling to the floor
like pins.

Valentina Cano

Small and thin
like a piece of drawing charcoal,
she looked at me.
Her eyes were large
with the knowledge
of the hard ground
I’d never travelled.
The scent of weeds in her nose.
I smiled and she blinked
lids of confusion.
I’d just taken her life
in that second.
She knew it.
I did not.

Valentina Cano