His spit-tipped finger calculates
inches of pain. He screams
at the sun when Sapello bone
-dries. He knows wind might whip
our walls and the sky may bruise
to whorls of pink and orange. He reads
us promises off a teleprompter.
The forecast always comes late
at night. Above Chente’s hailing cry.
Alejandro Lucero is a writer from Sapello, New Mexico by way of Denver. He serves as an intern and assistant editor for Copper Nickel. Winner of the 2021 Iris N. Spencer Poetry Award and Pushcart Prize nominee, his most recent work is forthcoming in Thin Air Magazine, The Pinch, and Salt Hill, where he was a finalist for the Philip Booth Prize judged by Matt Rasmussen.
