para Harry Schiller, Dean Simpson, y Jennifer Minnen

Now I
only go home
for the
Yellow Blossom. Dying

flashes of love were
never enough
rope to hold
the slam
of that sliding door. El

gato vacilando al
tigre. Especially
with five
months of fake
romance. Especially
with ten
years of
physical abuse. Crashing

down all in one fall: the
bees look majestic;
the tree’s flowers
are different
from down here. With a

rough stick of wood
kept inside the piano stool
or with Her bare hands.
My mother used
to punch the butterflies out of
my stomack. I’m sorry I broke
the eraser. Face

to the floor, I’m running away.
My dad sticks
Zoloft down my throat. A ver
si eso lo calma. You

said we’d get a couch and a
cat. I ran into your roots
because you forced me
to. On the bed I begged
you to stay
you booked the
first flight out of Bogota.

Andres F. Arevalo Zea (he/him) is a Colombian sophomore studying creative writing & computer science at CC '26. He was the recipient of the Academy of American Poets Prize for Tufts University last spring and is a staff writer for the Arts & Culture section of the Columbia Spectator. You can find him on Instagram @andresarevalo2205.