The dark room
forgets the stars
and venus, I fished in her moons
baited the page empty
to be more mysterious
fading into the ocean
in splashes of blue, I saw you
In spring
I planted tomatoes
too close to the jalapeños
and they married
Blessed was that marriage
and fruitful, every bite
was salsa in my mouth
Dissolving spice
leaves its prints
like time clapping upwards
a granite hill
on the other side, a bridge
between dusk and dawn
rocks the wind
has flung open the doors
The sheets cannot be retrieved
lifting high into the summer air
curling out over the barren fields
blackbirds glide into view
against the darkening clouds
they toss themselves among
the fading landscape of the sky
like pepper, or my dark dusty curtains
flapping in the cross breeze
falling to pieces, quietly
The cat ran away
It's been months
since I opened a book
or felt the sun
tracks across the sky
leaving its fire behind
hiding its face
in the dark somewhere
between the stars
~naǧí
© Copyright naǧí August 2016