Diana Delgado

Diana Marie Delgado grew up in La Puente, California. A graduate of the poetry programs at the University of California-Riverside and Columbia University, her work has appeared in Bordersenses, the Indiana Review, Ninth Letter, Ploughshares, and other contemporary literary journals. She currently lives in Queens. Audio versions of her poems can be found online at From the Fishouse: Audio Archive for Emerging Poets.


isn’t that what you’re afraid of a star shoots across the sky the miracle of bloom unanswered near a wishing well the heart sleeps it sunburns the men above a strawberry field a vanquishing what the heart does is surrender she wrote on saturday when the pawnshop re-opened and her anklets stuffed animals board games burst follicles were in hock debt and the heart is a bike ride against the wind they locked you outside the house in a cheap white nightgown the overturned car was filling with leaves when she said this wind eats everything his fantasy was to see blue-black feathers lift from church spires like songs of escape