Flying

By GABRIELA YBARRA LEMMONS

our truck gathers speed as we approach the hills of el valle and for
a few seconds    i am in flight    we accelerate    embark the horizon’s
next hill    we brake    drive past algodón    pull to the side    of the
road    terremotos on perfectly spaced rows    i follow my father
plucks a boll     exposes white fibers in my palm    where clothes come
from    he says    fertile    is my father’s land

 


Gabriela Ybarra Lemmons was born and raised in South Texas, a stone’s throw from the Rio Grande. She was raised by migrant workers and earned her MFA in creative writing from the University of Kansas. She is currently a dual language teacher in Topeka, Kansas. 

[Purchase Issue 26 here.] 

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Flying

Related Posts

July 2026 Poetry Feature

AMIYA MORETTA
Magnolia tree in the window, hammock, / a loop in hours, a cradle of light we swing inside, / naming what we’re afraid of. / In this version, he is from halfway around the world. / Some net caught the curve of us in the dark, / gathered what it could, his hand, my pulse.

Caribbean picture

Self-Portrait in The Caribbean

PAOLA ASSAD BARBARINO
Sometimes I am emboldened, / I decide to stand in the people’s balcony / I decide it is Maundy Thursday I decide to place a priest behind me that can speak to the people behind / my back / I decide to put out the fire and light my throat / scream

Feltspade

ELIAS SADAQ
I serve out my conscription / sleep in a bunk bed / for four cold months / in the engineer regiment at Skive Garrison / in a room with three other men / I fuck the colonel / the only sign that time is passing / is a pile of snow outside the window / that grows smaller