it rains atrocities on fields of love predatory nights, barbed wire walls, the silence of asphyxiated birds funerals of human parts the geopolitics of pain engulfs the maps revulsion, eyes intoxicate the shadows in your chambers of delight I change the course I walk on heated rocks hurt, the sound of waves invades my mind I sail my boat into the hearts of those who are misunderstood pain, the first dimension, runs at the speed of light space, the nothingness between your soul and mine, mistress of the purple, jacaranda hides its kisses inside the metaphor of us a lily cries I feed a child with grains that grow within my palms it rains the echoes of tomorrow asphyxiated birds barbed wire walls
I was planning to post a piece of prose today. However I got news that my poem “Amour” (by Gabriela M.) was nominated for publication of the month at Spillwords Press. You can read the poem here.
I write to ask for your vote (if you enjoyed the poem). There are other nominated poems so you can check them out too.
You do not need a Spillwords account to vote (although opening one is easy). You can vote with your Facebook or your Twitter account.
“Clara, he needs a haircut.”
Miguel rolls his eyes.
“For crying out loud, he is a statue.”
“So? I wonder where the closest barbershop is.”
“Miguel, are you crazy?”
“Yep. Crazy in love with you.”
travelers in colored carts head to roads of no return a fortune teller speaks of love milk and honey wait for me mama’s young the lilac is in bloom the hands of the rose garden wave to me i turn the key of the blue room…
Since my mother left this world, I’ve carried her picture in my purse every day. During the Easter Mass her picture felt out of my purse. When I picked it up I noticed, for the first time, the inscription on the back:
a tear on the tomb of a dream Stella August 15
Mama was only 18 years old when this picture was taken.