I.
If my memories serve
as a needle in point,
then I splinter my fingers
every time.
II.
With broken hands,
I cradle myself, imagining
a stack of needles
but what of the hay?
III.
Invasive and unwanted,
this needle grazes the edge
of my mind, bringing the unthinkable,
“maybe this isn’t what I want—
is it too late to move on?”
Keana Águila Labra was born and raised in Bay Area, California. Knowing the importance of representation, she would like her work to be evidence that Filipino Americans are also present in the literary and art world. She uses her experiences as reference for her poetry.