by Gustavo Adolfo Aybar
He doesn’t take anything serious, she says. Wonder where he gets it from. Her eyes—two hand-forged razor-sharp katanas—strike my left shoulder, slice through my clavicle, sever veins, arteries. Our son plays tag while other teammates worry about dribbling. Defense. Years away from practicing angles, power, and control; the way adults play when divorce ruptures and splits their life in two. I practice silence.
Gustavo Adolfo Aybar is a Dominican born poet, writer, translator, father, and mentor. He holds an MA in Romance Languages and Literature and is a Cave Canem fellow. He’s currently completing his first illustrated kids book, and his second full-length (hybrid) poetry collection, revealing his training as a law enforcement officer. Some of Aybar’s recent work can be found in Spanglish-Voces, Acentos Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, The Rupture, among other online journals and in-print publications.
