Portents

2017
 

1.

I wake up one morning

On Minoa. The sun rose but

the petunias lose their luster.

Ash falls soft and slow.

Shall I run? And to where?
 

2.

We met and instantly

You demanded I bleach

My hair blonde

And shave my armpits.
 

3.

The river Ayotipác vanished

with a high-throated soundless cry

from its bed like a woman abused.

Housewives stir dry soup,

wash their hair in collected rain.

Old men scuff the white river stones

seeking the underworld door

to death, that dry phenomenon.

​

​