Atlas Poetica 36
the postage stamp
is canceled
the envelope unopened
inside the perfumed letter
words that can’t get out
news she cannot bear
morning birdsong
delicate crystal chirps
ease me awake
I roll over,
wrap an arm around your waist
and listen to you snore
the cherita, taste of rain – August 2018
the generations
we grew up with
are almost gone
but lessons we’ve sown
have already grown
into endless fields of children
morning thunder
stillness may be shattered
and sunrise boldly stolen
but lying here with you
we can watch the falling raindrops
paint the windowpane
around the old stone hearth
we gathered
reciting incantations
smoky whispers
up the chimney
mingled with the evening rain
on that starry August night
I imagined us
lasting forever
but we were just there
holding hands for a moment
meteors piercing sky
the cherita, the stories – October 2018
we lost our ball
in a field of stories
where grandpa mowed the hay
looking there, picking berries
poking through the grass
now shadows looking back
first evening star
falling into space
I watch
as an unbroken moment
of eternity breaks
with the subtle blink of an eye
the cherita, snow ghosts – November 2018
wind whispers to a boy
in the branches
oh so very high
not a care
for where he’s going
but wishing he could fly
I’ve found a key
an old key
to your heart
I remember the feel
of this key and the way
we clicked when I turned it
never mind the thorns.
a bucket of berries
makes a pie,” she said.
scratches just skin deep
grandmother’s insight
mighty sweet
storyteller’s tale
is passed around the casket
the ending’s just been reached
so now it’s time to take a hand
and presume to know
what he would surely say
the cherita, in my palm – December 2018
do you remember me?
what was the measure
of that thing that we had?
can you remember
the night we fell for love
and you shared with me the moon?
the cherita, the sound of water – February 2019
evening rain
it’s quiet here
beside the fire
let me tell you the story
of how we’re going to fall
in love
scars
it doesn’t matter
where they come from
life comes complete with scars
and now that we have all these scars
we know we have dared to dream
a hint of jasmine
from
the warm bath
I watch from the open door
as she stirs the water
with her toes
as I set down this load
the burdens of my soul
by the side of the road
I can see the lightning
on the horizon
rain reflected in your eyes
an open door
is all that stands
between life and imagination
I step inside
and stop caring
if all I see is real
the cherita, leaves blown – March 2019
falling star
you broken-hearted
flicker in the sky
searching for your lover
you’ve wandered through the darkness
to be with me tonight
writing whatever comes to mind
unwinding all the twine
then tying it in knots
to have that freedom
dearly bought
I fought and fought and fought
a new year is coming
the old one was a ball
followed by a train wreck
I was picking through the debris
and found a goodbye letter
tucked inside my shoe
the cherita, a warm night – April 2019
kill me with a whisper
settle these bones with raindrops
beneath a stack of stones
then court my soul
in the great beyond
where together lasts forever
her garden trowel
has turned no earth
for many decades now
As I hold it in my hand
I can almost feel her hand
holding mine
the cherita, a morning light – May 2019
the stars come out
an old man counts them
slowly
calling them by name
as if each one
were his child
Sonic Boom, Issue 12
cold spring rain
the gray fashions
a cloak around me
I sit here
fumbling with the keys
to my imagination
