Gabriela Garcia

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Gabriela Garcia is a Pushcart Prize nominee whose work has appeared in or is forthcoming from Word Riot, Parallax, and Slippery Elm, among others. She is soon to be a first year MFA candidate in poetry at Columbia University. 

To Do


Under the blossoms

rise, rise in drunken skin

that will never be as real

as the flower itself.

Empty the cauldron of the mind

and add more honey,

more blue.


Be a child where you cry,

but inhabit.

That divot is yours, that dying skin

you pressed your body

up against in dreams.

Watch for the divergence;

overlap my silhouette

and bite its imperfect outline

like you’re eating snow.

I want to be the statue

in the square you drew, 

your fingers shimmying

the dust awake.



Night Drive


If I was only the incumbent to my own power,

innocent like winter that cant help but dig for

ashes. I saw my dream cremated along the

Long Island Express Way near a rock cold river.

It packed a gaggle of lovers in a van and drove them

through a mirage. I am the thin castle of reflections

that lead home to you, the way you catch your eye

in a slice of metallic outside the diner and smooth

your beard. There is a shallow hole ahead, so prepare.

There is a sharp turn waiting to fold the map into

a blackened smirk.

© The Acentos Review 2016