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By Anaïs Deal-Márquez

Maybe I would have seen you trip
over the steps in the patio in between
classes, or we would have met on the
soccer field covered in mud and you
would have asked my name, that crooked
smile spreading from your eyes to your
mouth. Maybe I would have laughed.
Maybe, we would have had a nieve in the
plaza, and you would have held my hand
after folklórico or at a fandango where I
was learning to dance faster than my
adrenaline. Maybe, you would have given
me a bouquet of mango con chile y limón,
or elote con queso and we’d count all the
ways cuetes go off in this pueblo, and would
walk the feria at night wrapped up in blankets
drinking atole. Maybe, we would have fought
over the meaning of God, maybe, that danzón
after drinking the toritos would have made me
cry. Maybe, I would have broken your heart over
a plate of tamales and ponche, or maybe you
would have cut me off with a joke. But maybe
this land would have been large enough for our
hearts to grow, the sun would feel different on
our skin and the mercados with the viejitas
would give a calmer pace to our lives. Maybe our
cuts would be different here, with enough
medicina to move through salt water. Maybe our
roots would allow our bones to be enough.

Source: Poetry (March 2020)

Poet Bio

Anaïs Deal-Márquez
Anaïs Deal-Márquez is a writer based in Minneapolis. She has completed her first poetry manuscript which weaves memory, tradition, and migration. See More By This Poet
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