The wheat wants an apology,
for taking me this long
to show my wrists
to the thresher boy.
Finally a summer where he asks how my parents are
and my jaw is ready,
stretched open so he can hear about them,
I may look different after,
I will need a new name,
picked by my parents—they’re calling right now
so I can help them write a check out in English.
We take our time
to heave and hug our way
through the harvest season.
And then the stalks towered
and tickled the floorboards of Heaven.
spot my culprit, my ex-thresher boy
and his ginger hair,
to anyone that far up
that these farm boys had the audacity
to be wanted.
Oswaldo Vargas is a former farmworker and a 2021 Undocupoets Fellowship recipient. He has been anthologized in Nepantla: An Anthology Dedicated to Queer Poets of Color and published in Narrative Magazine and Academy of American Poets’ “Poem-A-Day” (among other publications). He lives and dreams in Sacramento, California.