A pomegranate-colored coin drops in-
to the ocean. I make a fruitless wish.
Meanwhile, hunger swells a-bruise. Soon, stars.  
Will freckle the night with echoes of light,
and the people will play a cosmic game
of connect-the-dots. Why not? In Spanish,
we say cielo to mean sky, or heaven,
or both. We look up for what we have lost
here, in the land of dreams hung out to dry.
Half-mast. There are other impossible
distances, blues we’d never imagine
crossing. Instead, we try. And fail. With love.
You are a horizon I cannot reach.
I admire the length I’ve left to walk.

Butter on bread, your smile. Spread across your cheeks
Like clean sheets over the bed, minutes after my favorite
Meal of the day. (Did I just say that? To make you laugh?)

It’s true. I love the way you move. Beneath my mouth,
A billow. Clothesline laundry in the wind, the yard
We don’t yet have. Enough sex to make you happy.

If desire isn’t dirty, then at least admit we make a mess.
Skin, a surface like any other. So tell me, lover. How to feel
At home in a house that’s not in order? Because when

My body’s song runs dry, its echoes ring all over.
Every spill, an accident. Another blemish on the counter,
That mirror of my filth. But you. Live with hunger

Like it’s meant to happen. Are unafraid of unwashed
Dishes, their fairytale tower in the sink. So. Tell me
A story about delight. I want to know what’s next.

for the murdered & wounded at Club Q

What I know

is that I’ll die

of complications

of desire

peace a country

I come to

like the one

I come from

at the altar

of shame

I’ll be a pathology

of silk

lavender flame

in my belly

my heart

a clock

wound by want

a countdown

fear

is a lover

whose language

I cannot speak

ancestral

her desire

for me to live

so I do

I do