I search for the soft in your linens, which smell far too much like the last
time races against me, and I am troubled. It is held upright by the windows, shutters in the same position as it was: when ‘I love you’s were exchanged without desperation. Eyes sway in the moonlight, entranced by all except
that which is in front of you draping curtains to keep the light out, the smell of emptiness permeating skin
the wood tinging for forgiveness.
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.