Fig of Unfolding

Octavio Quintanilla

Tonight, I expect the only star in the sky to beso bright I’ll forget all I know about sorrow, how it feels like sandpaper against skin, how it looks like the old woman my mother has become. I was still a boy when I watched my father plant a fig tree in the back yard, me not knowing much about the fruit it promised,but enough knowing about the river running through my father’s quiet as he dug a hole to make his offering.Ever since, I’ve been running in the opposite directionof hope, trying to logic my way out of God’s existence.It gets tiring tunneling through time till I get close enough to see an exit and then time begins again, but this timewithout the people I have loved. A day will comewhen my body will no longer open like a suitcase to take myself on a journey where I’ll dream of never being found, where I’ll dream of never finding what I’ve lost. I no longer have a need for it, no more fig tree, no more father, the backyard sold long ago to strangers.

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Photo of Octavio Quintanilla

Octavio Quintanilla is the author of the poetry collections, If I Go Missing (Slough Press, 2014), The Book of Wounded Sparrows (Texas Review Press, 2024), which has been longlisted for the National Book Award, and Las Horas Imposibles / The Impossible Hours, winner of the 2024 Ambroggio Prize given by the Academy of American Poets, forthcoming from the University of Arizona Press.

Octavio is the founder and director of the literature & arts festival, VersoFrontera, publisher of Alabrava Press, and former Poet Laureate of San Antonio, TX. His Frontextos (visual poems) have been published and exhibited widely. He teaches Literature and Creative Writing at Our Lady of the Lake University.

Website: octavioquintanilla.com
IG: @writeroctavioquintanilla
Twitter: @OctQuintanilla

Cover of The Book of Wounded Sparrows by Octavio Quintanilla

Huntsville, Texas

Texas A&M Texas Book Consortium

In The Book of Wounded Sparrows, his second full-length collection of poetry, Octavio Quintanilla sifts through the wreckage left in the pursuit of the American Dream. This is a book within a book, a memory within a memory, a future within a past, and most urgently—a journey to reclaim the self for what it was and to proclaim what it could be. Nested within one another, the English and Spanish, the poetry and art, create layers of obscuration and revelation, unburying the fractured landscapes left in the wake of geographic, emotional, and familial dislocation.

In this collection, Quintanilla finds the language and the form to write about the loss that often happens when one migrates from one country to another: the loss of family, the loss of culture, and the loss of language. Of course, this book is more than that—more than a narrative of loss—it is a book of poetic reclamation, of poetic imagination, of finding new and interesting ways to tell a story, a love of language at its center, so as to reclaim a history of trauma and mythologize the self.

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