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Miriam Calleja Poem
She counts the seeds
Of my pomegranate heart
The same, always the same
No matter how many times she counts.
Her fingers are stained
And though she may wash and scrub
There I will be
In her skin, lodged in places
Where she cannot wash me out
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2015
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Miriam Calleja Poem
She always led me down that alleyway holding my left hand with both of hers, like a child, excitedly. It was awkward of course, and I did all I could not to trip in her feet. But she made small, quick steps, avoiding the overgrown weeds with learned skill. My heartbeat quickened as we reached the low gate, when suddenly sunshine would wash over us. It felt distinctly wild and Mediterranean, looking in where we shouldn’t, where old ‘mad’ Mr Winthorpe had set up his little animal grave. It was beautiful.
Weeds and stones and love
Planted with you all the above
Your memories live
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2016
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Miriam Calleja Poem
You smell like a memory of the sea
And I remember which day
You swept me off my feet, but gently
A toe still drawing
Lines in the sand
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2015
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Miriam Calleja Poem
Because you kissed me in the dark
And with my eyes closed
(Closed because you asked me,
For a moment,
To close them)
That kiss does not exist.
And because you held my hand
In another room
We do not talk about it.
It’s as though it never happened,
Because it happened somewhere else,
And that was not a metaphor
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2016
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Miriam Calleja Poem
Night Sky Blue
That night the moon
Was cut in half, heavy
In the night sky blue
Fingers searching hot
In my lap
And smiles without borders
Driving through your eyes
That night the moon
Was cut in half, bleeding
Just like my heart
Into a calm sea
Waiting for you
With every beat
A pulse that gets stronger
With time
That night the moon
Was cut in half, tragic
Shaking, moving in the sky
Nothing was still
It felt like the end
I held your hand as the sea took us
And I loved you,
I loved you till the end.
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2017
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Miriam Calleja Poem
The gods must be crazy
tell them now, like you told me
that I'll never find anyone
to love me as much as you did,
(as much as God did?
you didn't find it difficult to go on about that)
and tell them now, like you told me,
they must be crazy not to listen to you,
you, so wise that you knew
that I wouldn't be loved again
and I would die alone
and even the gods would be crazy
to forgive me
Copyright © Miriam Calleja | Year Posted 2016
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