Cinema Paradiso (1988) - Aura Peredia Garcia

“When will this bloody summer end?

In a film it’d already be over. Cut,

and there’s a storm,”

is said while you place a hand on my neck, thumb to cheek.

A framed woman silhouette lies behind a white sheet.

I count the ridges on your jean’s hem.

You press thumb to tongue;

I watch and wonder,

when will I know your favorite film?

Until you kiss my right shoulder,

then ask, “Can I put my hand under your shirt?”

Interlaced, filmed actors profess,

“There is no future, Salvatore, only the past.”

“I’ll never agree with you. Never, Elena.”

Alone, censored cinema kisses appear,

I touch a mark made,

and crave conversations

about your favorite film.

Aura Peredia Garcia is a fourth-year English major at Fresno State studying creative writing. She writes about memory, longing, and concepts of identity as a trans Chicanx woman. She has been published in Flies, Cockroaches and Poets and is currently working on her novella, Azul's Film.