Sasha Evangelista

Daughter

I see you.

I am trying to see you

trying to keep the words

quiet on the page. Hot and bright

and roaring, scales

dripping like the one

mythical animal

in the one wet sea.

I see you.

I want to see you

spilling from every rose, too wild

to keep. Like scent. As if I  could

dip my hand in the river of stars

and become immortal enough

to grab your silver tail

as you streak past.

I see you.

I was meant to see you

ished” I want to say

“the river you’re in”

I want to say “that you reach

through from inside

to get to us” I want

  to say “handfuls

of light”

I want to say “dragon” like “river” like “body”

I want to say “there’s no unsinging” but you already know that

Sasha Evangelista is a West Coast writer, musician and poet who currently lives along a river inhabited by the Kalapuyan, Molalla, Clackamas and Chinook peoples (Portland). Her nonfiction has been published by Chinquapin and Sweet Lit. She is one half of the band Forest Leaves, and an MFA candidate at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She loves tidelines, Chinese fantasy and the scent of her neighbors’ lilacs.