loteria — a tiny poem

it’s not that you can choose

your cards are dealt, the passages

the places you had to go through everything

painted on your soul

the good, the bad

even the beautiful

you know which was you

swimming up


the reach for the moon, brass ring, bright rose

the years your soul was cloistered

some pact you had to make

with souls

you want to find your siren call

swimming in the last seas, sustained

the little candle against white plaster

the crude bed

the vast view

you want his eyes alone on you

it was a league ten thousand strong

kore on the shore, so long

so long that years could never speak

the tongue in silence

did retreat


“loteria” — copyright 2011 — all rights reserved

(a start anyway, on something that might get longer.)

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