if I squint my eyes tight Citgo refineries twinkle and tower like cathedrals in the distance smell of salt at the city line dad always under the hood of his Mustang oil shapes like butterflies on the thighs of his Levis every Sunday he takes his boat on the water to pray mom insists on […]
Azalea Aguilar
Azalea Aguilar is an emerging Chicana poet from South Texas, where the scent of the gulf and memories of childhood linger in her work. Her poetry delves into the complexities of motherhood, echoes of childhood trauma, and the resilience found in spaces shaped by addiction and survival. She writes to honor the past, give voice to the unspoken, and carve tenderness from the raw edges of experience. Her work has appeared in the Angel City Review, The Skinny Poetry Journal, The Glass Post, and The Acentos Review. She has been featured at events hosted by the American Poetry Museum in DC and is currently crafting her first manuscript, a collection exploring the intersections of love, loss, and lineage.