Micaela Camacho-Tenreiro

SUNSET: SONNET

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.

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