we see it, after an earthquake
the fragility—
in hot weather, we see it
we pulse with the sun and curse our impermanence
those quakes, and that sun, dance with our fate—
they twitch for our sanity—
they are contractions in our veins—yes—
these quakes—this heat—
they yearn to adapt to our digest—
and beg us to smash our bones delicately against another—and remain

Ingrid Calderon-Collins is a Salvadoran poet & refugee residing in Los Angeles. She's published in OCCULUM, Electric Cereal, Dryland, Seafom Mag, Memoirmixtapes, Punch Drunk Press, Moonchild Magazine, Anti-Heroin Chic, Bad Pony Mag, L'Éphémère Review amongst others etc... Guilty of four full-length poetry books entitled 'Things Outside', 'Wayward' & 'Zenith' & 'Ablution.' She invites you to stalk her on Twitter @BrujaLamatepec and read her rants at notesofadirtyyoungwoman.com