Hidalgo’d greeted me with my son’s first
rainbow and the “Grande’s” nearly drinkable,
but I don’t; I simply listen to its whisper.

So swept the moon and salt slightly right of
hand, whilst chasing tequila, and a haunt
avenged – hatred for the home I’ve fled and
harbored, a fury for those that’d now intend her
harm.

Sure, my son’s safe, and he smiles. But the
seconds make haste, when her feet pitter-patter
and a village’s only swell, for so long, so long
that swollen’s tempered.

Tomorrow, I venture back, and the day after, I’d
pray, pray that come Thursday, my baby and our
baby, inebriated womb, would ride atop my
back, free and never to fear again.

Never to run again, never to cry again, and so
birthed our smiles surrounded the table, echoed
were the tales of how we’d achieved, “here” –

Our promised land, “there,” upright, full,
content, we’d talk about it every night, and it’s
there. Come hell or high water, “it’s,” there, it
really is, and come hell or high water, soon we’d
make it, “here.”

I unraveled her kimono
As if it were a gift,
When hours earlier,
She’d bandaged my arm.

I traced her clavicle
With the only finger left,
And seconds later, would
Intimately grasp the music.

So I whimper within want,
And blame it on the pain,
Come an instant,
She’d pegged me a “liar.”

Then we’d love, we’d wed,
A naked knowing only moonlight,
And should the hours understand
“Later,” we’d know only dark.

So the sunrise ensued,
I folded her kimono, silk and
As if it were a letter, one
Parting gratitude and prior wander.

But the crimson and
‘Ever’d arrive later,  and later’d
Arrived atop a melancholy’s mount,
Eternal and seasoned  “regret,”

She’d passed, we’d passed,
And the night’s passed to know
Only “broken,” broken, the bow,
And how all and always unravels.