2 poems by Anthony Aguero
The Moment Leading Up to My Dad Chasing Me Out the House with a Machete
Now I am not saying he’s a bad man,
But there was sweat pouring out his eyes,
And he had pennies in the cracks between
His teeth and I wanted them all.
Maybe I have a bad attitude, but
This is a love poem of sorts.
The smell of meth seeping out the pores
Is probably what I’m remembering.
Or, his body, as the start of a song.
Maybe I have a bad memory,
But there was a ghost resting alongside
His body strumming his hair.
This is my first idea of intimacy:
His body strumming his hair.
Maybe I’m telling the story wrong.
His body smelled like pennies,
And the ghosts were everywhere
Waiting on his body to move.
Or, his body, as the start of a song
As he sifts through his come-down.
O, you painful man
And how you ready your weapons.
Now I am not saying he’s a bad man.
By the Way
I was chopping up onions one morning
With an odd, serrated knife and the
Fiery scent of the bulb made me teary,
(as to be expected) and I thought of
my mom and I thought matriarchy
and acknowledged something inside
of my body telling me I was sad.
This happens more often than not
One evening I had been dancing in
My living room, with its tall ceiling,
And I wanted to describe the coast’s
Sunset but I couldn’t find the words,
So I just turned and turned until I
Landed into the right type of delusion.
A friend told me today that when I
Become angry it comes with a type
Of precision that should be sought
Only when chopping up onions
With an odd, serrated knife misplaced.
october 15th, 2020Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Bangalore Review, 2River View, The Acentos Review, The Temz Review, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, and others.