ISSUE 10 FEATURE
Morning in Moyogalpa. Alleys flush
with orchids, wax-leafed guapinol,
early light. In the hostel where cops
take the loud corner girls, leave
without paying, I wake slow, my chest
a rash of bites. Remembering
the night before: bottles of Flor de Caña,
a slick plywood table, the ruined English
of a man’s confession: En Managua,
I am shooting un hombre en the head.
Jabbing a thumb at his temple. Everyone
looking away. I wander thirsty
into the street, sun hammering down hard.
A deer, brown with white marks, presses
bold against me. Three months and I am wild
to be touched. The deer’s tongue
scraping salt from my arm. That strange
tenderness against me.
Closing my eyes. Leaning into it.
Edgar Kunz is a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University. His work can be found in AGNI, New England Review, The Missouri Review, Narrative, Gulf Coast, the Best New Poets series, and other places. His writing has been supported by the Bread Loaf Writers' Conference, the Academy of American Poets, and Vanderbilt University, where he earned an MFA. He lives in San Francisco.