CD Eskilson

XNA —> XNA

After Tiana Clark

I can’t go home another birthday though I try
to hold it here. Hold California stars inside my head.

In Arkansas, I drive past glades and spot deer
stripping oaks. Learn color from the cardinal wings,

sleep lullabied by frog songs. Still tonight I wish
for concrete or the dapple under brakelights, to watch

each prick not zipper as they merge into a lane.
I come from reckless driving, countless reckless

nights on Sunset. These past months show I’m driftwood
stuck in sand and skunkweed out a window. Heart

thudding like worn tire over pothole. Back home I hated
this, though. The going out, the high gas, rent, and Arkansas

is none of it. In Arkansas, I climb hills gray with winter, stare at
nameless constellations. The roads slick blue with quiet. Here

I’m still searching lakes for waves. Before leaving I combed
beaches for a rock I might take with me, lost it walking to the car.

I come from where the shore holds out its hands to give back
all that’s vanished. Here that shore cannot find you.

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CD Eskilson is a trans nonbinary poet, editor, and educator from Los Angeles. Their work appears or is forthcoming in The Washington Square Review, the minnesota review and Redivider, among others. CD is Poetry Editor for Exposition Review and reads for Split Lip Magazine. They are an MFA candidate at the University of Arkansas.