The Magician’s Foundling by Angel Leal

49 lines
Issue 2 (Spring/Summer 2023)


When you found me
you fed me with spells
painted on your
fingertips

& when you held me,
taught me how to speak
to birds, I knew the hairy
myth of a father

naming the world
before my eyes.
But if I laid
by your stomach

I sensed the summer
smell of a mother.
The garden
crusting off your feet

reminded me of berries
& the healing sun
& the forgotten sound
of being called
inside.

Your voice was the house.
In dreams, I still hear
my home
leave your mouth
in puffs of smoke.

Tío, mi viejo mago,
when you fell, I lost
my nerve for years.
Only now, with
clumsy words

I tiptoe back
to a dead one’s
bedroom, rummaging
drawers for seeds
& the secrets

behind your loneliness.
Why did you search
for stars instead
of lovers

& raise a child
you picked out
of the ground?

Why did you sleep
alone with your
magic

& gift me
all of your
time

Angel Leal is a Latinx, trans/nonbinary writer who once had a tío who taught them how to love plants. Their poems have appeared in Strange Horizons, Fantasy Magazine, Anathema: Spec from the Margins, Solarpunk Magazine, and elsewhere. They’ve been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, the Rhysling Award, The Dwarf Stars Award, and are a co-admin of CALAMITOUS, a queer sci-fi and fantasy writing group. You can find them at angel-leal.com or floating around Twitter @orbiting_angel
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