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Poem

Don Churches 
brushes his words
like acrylic on finger tips
to my lips
 and eyes my corner
where I am not content to sit
when the smell of Mexico
lingered from his hands
that day, not long ago
When the Jupiter rain
crashed like glass 
on his homebound truck,
pitch as the void 
of being here and rid
of Monterrey
 
Don Suave 
you remind me of my heart
even as I watch
my life loose heat 
and like cold coffee
be discarded and drained
 disappearing like the summer
I'm an ember to your whim
ready to live or hiss
under your palm and mouth,
 a wind leading me
 on or off
where my story will be written
 
Tormenta, amor, calmame
I am only a girl
with my hair bound and down
over my display, less kempt than my mind
though I am terrified.
Don't touch me, I'll break
Your sympathy looks like love
Don Face
I'll wonder why you look to me
But I know too well
to pass you on
If I can't be eased to be
the destination of your feet
 
But even in this
me llamas, you call
and
You carry all
of Mexico, my heart
a honey suckle season
Si quieres
walk with me miles
and let me know
your smile 
in the absence of fear
here
where my soul stands ready

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