Stay in Your Throat
The sun made ice cream dissolve into sweet rain toward the sidewalk. The man’s remark was like many others, though we’d heard his voice before—in his house—as we gossiped with his daughter. But now our thighs were thicker, eyes silver-shadowed. I wanted recognition to shine in his irises. An apology to escape his lips. For the softness of a girl’s skin to stay in his throat. But the only thing in his stare was the hollow of us as unfamiliar, and a veneer of eager—waiting for us to be replaced by other legs, a new sight.
In our dream band, on the rondador:
Victoria Buitron hails from Ecuador and resides in Connecticut. She received an MFA in Creative Writing from Fairfield University. Her writing has appeared or is forthcoming in The Normal School, the 2021 Connecticut Literary Anthology, The Acentos Review, and other literary magazines. Her debut memoir-in-essays, A Body Across Two Hemispheres, is the 2021 Fairfield Book Prize winner.