Wednesdays on One Poem Only are a double feature: one poem here on the podcast, and one more by the same poet shared on Instagram.

Cycles

S. Salazar

The space in which my family occupies is a revolving door—

each rotation moves me further from their timelines.

Yet turning to push the door in reverse

won’t take me back to a time with them:

to picnics beneath the Central Park oaks

or a game of tag among Puerto Rican palms.

I existed decades after Abuelo exited the door.

I stepped between the panes of glass

just as Abuela stepped out.

Abuelo took everything with him except his family.

Abuela held tight to her Latin roots,

clutching memories of a childhood in Puerto Rico.

Lugged them through her new life in America

until they calloused and cracked her hands.

Stubborn, she carried that heritage out the door.

Took customs and superstitions and stories.

I’m left alone, spinning with the echo of her lifetime

in empty air, the dust of her travels clustered on the floor.

Pressing my palms against glass where her prints had been.

Willing my prints to match hers. Praying I leave something more

behind despite having less. One day, I’ll step out.

Everybody does. But I can’t leave until I fill this place

with something more than dust.

More from S. Salazar ↓

1. @writessalazar on Instagram
2. @writessalazar on Substack
3. Her book, Raíces, Relics, and Other Ghosts, published by Kelsay Books is available now

Watch the Second Poem

You can watch and listen to another poem by S. Salazar as part of our Wednesday double feature on Instagram at @rembrandts.cure.

Support + Stay Connected to OPO

If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.

Two poems. One poet. Let the words keep moving.