Hide and Seek

Azalea Aguilar

Sometimes my children

hide in plain sight

pull covers over themselves

when I enter a room

sometimes I do it too

when papi arrives home

I curl up on the sofa

between them

he meows his way to us

before pulling down

the blanket to our screams

other times they crouch

behind furniture

too small to hide

their growing bodies

the youngest still

draws on walls

equations on the window sill

her sister's name on the staircase

a rainbow in the doorway

lately I rarely tuck them in

days heavier as I age

they come to say good night

youngest nuzzles

her face in my chest

oldest offers her

forehead for a kiss

they still seek for me

insist I witness

look mommy, look, look

for how long I wonder

Published in Issue No. 11, Custos Verborum, August 1st, 2025.

Azalea Aguilar is a Chicana poet from South Texas, gulf scents and childhood memories linger in her work. Her poetry delves into complexities of motherhood, echoes of trauma, and resilience found in spaces shaped by survival. Her work has appeared in Angel City Review, The Skinny Poetry Journal, and The Acentos Review.