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Valentina Cano

Valentina Cano is a student of classical singing who enjoys whatever free time she has either reading or writing.  She also takes care of a veritable army of pets, including her six spoiled snakes.  Her poetry has been published in numerous publications, such as Popshot, Danse Macabre, and Magnolia’s Press.  You can find her here:

Obsessive Personality

Morning is not
the best time to learn to juggle.
The pins, solid enough at first,
begin to trail pieces,
wood shavings.
What trickles out
coats your hands in a sticky resin,
making you stumble.
Making you crack the wood
against the floor like
readjusting knuckles.
Morning asks to be covered up
in a shroud while the
pieces are gathered,
while the juggler
paints landscapes of pain.
Of all the moments
dressed in hot courage,
the morning is the only one with teeth.
My eyes are lowered
like parachutes.
The moment sees me.
The moment ignores me.


An idea seemed to melt
the door frame in our room.
The wood first wobbled,
all buckling knees,
then toppled over
without a single sound.
We gazed on,
our minds coffee grinders
of useless quotes,
useless phrases
we’ve spat out, dripping,
a hundred times.
The walls sigh as
the idea scratches at them
with claws made of
sharpened clichés.
We think on,
oblivious to the massacre,
the crumbling bricks,
the cursing plaster,
watching without seeing,
only dreaming our
soundless words.

What I Wish for You

for Odin

I hope the air is clear where you are.
I dream of it,
its sky like windowpanes,
crystal and cool,
the sun a fluorescent bulb
that never burns.
The air should smell of cinnamon,
its musky scent rubbing
against tree bark,
the sweetness holding hands
with the bitter sap.
I imagine you dancing
in a twirl of coppers,
golds glittering like eyes
off your back.
I laugh at your face
open like a gate,
as you see me peek in,
a head poking up
from under an attic door.

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