|Downtown Austin circa 2010|
Sparrows trapped in the grocery store with choosing apples it is the 21st century and astonishingly little can be done about that.
The man who makes my coffee says something I can't hear over the steam, about elk, or women. Still early and dark out in the rain.
These are some ways a flat expanse will trap you: voicemail, garbage, a dead stag by the highway, misplaced music, yeses, and yes.
Dancing Hair Down
Saturday night means
Never having to say
A woman waiting for a bus folds her face to her knees, her hair waterfalling down. A tree felled nearby, an almost finished house. #poemaday
Afternoon light slices apples in the kitchen. Foggy, trying to remember "Kindness." Someone says "what's next in news is inward." #poemaday
This is driving. "The otherness of the self" up next on the radio, Jupiter in tonight's sky, I'm lost in last year's neighborhood. #poemaday
Apocalypse drought news, I practice remembering blood oranges, post-water future, a gasp of color. Like violence they tasted warm. #poemaday
Listlessly shop for things I won't buy. Headache, pollen-eyed, nothing in the day but an ugly thrum, I know I'm not alone in this. #poemaday
Backfired flowers I wish I invented pollen-stained sheets but it's happening. The snapping sound I love about "stripped the bed." #poemaday
A magazine says that to start lucid dreaming you must continually ask yourself, Am I dreaming? Eventually, the answer will be Yes. #poemaday
Shoulder to Shoulder
Ashes are the best part of fire
after I changed,
Square your shoulders,
Topple the apple-dream
of tomorrow’s picking and Be! Here! Now!
It’s not too late
for the late race
Let’s meet tonight
the back patio and the chinaberry tree
All the poets lying
shoulder to shoulder
to see something the sky says (Comets!)
Before we realized it
We had to see each other everyday
(excuse me James, for stealing your stuff)—
This is the part of the poem where I say,
I stepped away
to write your name
on my hand,
I can remember
how much I miss you
|Photo by Johan Beisser|
Desiree Morales is a poet and educator living in Austin, Texas.
She received her BA in Creative Writing and Linguistics from Pitzer College
in Claremont, California.