Wendy Trevino



Sometimes it feels like we live
In a huge Etch-A-Sketch
& someone is shaking it
Really hard.

We’re fucked.
You get used to it
& you want to be strong
Enough to feel ok

About feeling weak
In the face
Of what you’ve become
& what it’s going to

Require you do.
& when will that be?
I get tired.
A friend writes, “Heaven is all goodbyes”

& I imagine the goodbyes
Of 700 migrants storming the border
Fence between Morocco & Ceuta
Some using homemade blow torches

Others hurling quicklime & shit.
A couple of weeks later
There are 300 more.
I wonder how many made it.

I wonder where they’re going
& if there’s anyone waiting for them
            I wonder why a poem

Where death figures
So prominently
Makes me think of life
Moving freely around

Narrowly missing
One capitalist trap
After another.

I’ve spent a lot of time
Trying to figure it out.
The connection.
There might not be one.

A world without borders
Without commodities
Would make this better.
Easier to take.

I’ve been told
I’ve mastered the lyric.
It wasn’t meant
As a compliment.

My friend was saying
“Try again.”
Sometimes that’s what a friend says.
Let me tell you:

We can’t individually “win” in this world
& simultaneously create another
Together. Another friend of mine
His mother

Will probably spend
Some time in prison.
I ask if
She’s scared. 

“Well all her friends
Are there,” he says.
You can’t argue
With that

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Wendy Trevino was born and raised in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. She lives in San Francisco, where she shares an apartment with her boyfriend, friend & two senior cats. She has published chapbooks with Perfect Lovers Press, Commune Editions and Krupskaya Books. Brazilian no es una raza - a bilingual edition of the chapbook she published with Commune Editions - was published by the feminist Mexican press Enjambre Literario in July 2018. Her first book-length collection of poems Cruel Work was published by Commune Editions in September 2018. Wendy is not an experimental writer.