It was an ash,

And he sniffed till it dried.

He, on the other hand, roamed the galleries, lost

Where he held hands with strange daughters who charge penance to their fathers…

Both had their sight focused,

But never losing track of the other.

The peripheral vision is a gift

-so he hid in that crevice of assumed imagery.

The other, behind the pillow

And wished the other was such a comfort.

 

 

- 

 

 

 

Come with me BOY

Y te dare la formula

para aplomarte bien a tu raiz.

[cual?… el mio o el tuyo?]

 

 

Nunca.

 

 

 

 -

 

 

crossed legged and stained pants don’t

keep the screen from falling.

My hair falling, and the stars from coming in at night.

They can steal you if you’re not tied up at night, holding him in arms

Protecting one another from the frigid night.

 

My abuela passed on her indigenous wisdom

“Flickers” build a noche fria.

 

 

“Dejeme”-le digo.

I’ll put the screen back on later…

-he wants it off tonight.