Michael Torres
Poetry
Levi Strauss & Co.
When he dies, my father turns into a small stone on the bed. A smooth oval I weigh in my palm, grip, and then, after a minute, draw circles over with my thumb.
July 2025
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
Essays For My Daughter
I leave with my sunglasses on, waving my hand. Sometimes you call my name, your voice a taut string, and I think Michael might snap in half. But it’s strong — a tether.
June 2022
Essays, Memoirs & True Stories
As If To Say
If I need to ask my father a question, I ask my mother. I’ve always done this, to get around the fact that he and I hardly speak. It’s not that we have nothing to say. We just don’t know how to say it. He doesn’t speak English very well, and I don’t speak Spanish very well, so neither of us is even going to try.
November 2017
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