review-spring-2013

Nostalgia doesn’t melt like water underfoot
doesn’t climb on the back of a horse
to be carried far from our hearts
It stays here
anchored
rooted in racked flesh
drinking up tears
and roiling our blood

Nostalgia doesn’t flow away
like riverwater
but becomes a sea
pulling at us relentlessly
—  Irma Pineda, from “Nostalgia Doesn’t Flow Away Like Riverwater,” trans. Wendy Call, Michigan Quarterly Review (Spring 2013)