After Benjamin Garcia
Like strobe light landing on a face, an arm within the crowd. The rest of you left darkness. One might first revel in obscurity; this lack of glare, in how what’s hidden can’t be touched. How fast the comfort fades. You fade into a thought again. Hands slicked with black and eyes blurred in this throng. Here you’re becoming alien. By one definition passing is directional—the movement beyond something fast as possible. Here see how as jumps from the middle to give urgency, leaves p and s behind. Combined, they form a symbol for addendum. Why does my being remain afterthought? I play with letters, hope to spell it out here. We might pass each other somewhere, but do you really see me?
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CD Eskilson is a trans nonbinary poet, editor, and educator from Los Angeles. Their work appears or is forthcoming in The Washington Square Review, the minnesota review, and Redivider, among others. CD is poetry editor for Exposition Review and an M.F.A. candidate at the University of Arkansas. Follow them on Twitter @CdEskilson.