Namesake
Riding a gold boat
Queen Calafia monitors
the harbors
from Baja California Sur
to the northern border.
When the sun sets
she is a night whisper
falling asleep
in Mexico’s warm womb.
A single hummingbird—
a holy witness
waiting for migrating whales—
mercies memory
as evening sea darkens
into a never-ending psalm.
The Window
At nineteen I asked what it all means.
Now in the middle of age, what are
the stars.
Another September begins.
Purple pansies grow in a planter box
outside the window.
The morning is an unrealized path
silver with illumination,
love a sea—
heavy with fish and electricity.
Full of blood, I am a hot spark.
An old cradle song plays far away,
its single arc
incapable of untruth.
Author’s note: “The Window” is the title of the first chapter of Virginia Woolf’s novel To the Lighthouse. The italicized words are phrases found in this chapter.
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