by Timothy Dailey-Valdés

I’m sorry
that I did whatever I did
to mislead you
into thinking
I was

I’m sorry if
startles you
and if you can’t understand

I’m sorry
if you’re caught
in the ruins
of a crumbling edifice
that has no permit to stand.

I’m sorry you couldn’t hear my voice
before. I’m sorry

you thought I was fragile.

Timothy Dailey-Valdés lives and writes in Central Texas. His work has appeared in North American ReviewAssaracusThe St. Sebastian Review, and other journals. He has worked on the editorial staffs of Bay LaurelSouthwestern American Literature, and, most recently, Front Porch Journal, where he served as Poetry Editor. He earned his MFA in Creative Writing from Texas State University in 2016. In his spare time, he mostly alternates between daydreaming and battling neurosis. For the morbidly curious, more information is available at timothydaileyvaldes.com



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