January 24th
Two owls converse in my yard—
I give up on sleep.
These are no ordinary hoots.
Owls mate in January.
Nuptial vows flow,
promises of fidelity, and because
they've chosen my guava tree
for their honeymoon,
I'm invited to the wedding.
Cruise Stop, Trapani, Sicily
Bicycles ply cobblestone streets —
no helmets here, no stop signs.
A woman beats her rug
on her balcony railing.
Across from her
an old man sits and watches.
At the corner, two men argue,
their hands shaking like maracas.
No one smiles in this scene
that could open a Fellini film—
but I won't learn more
about these characters,
their lives simply
my photo opportunity.
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Alone in the Dark
Most would see a grown woman
sitting on the edge of her bed.
Look closer: she's five, scared and sobbing.
She wants to run to her parents' bedroom,
wake her father, and wait for his long arm
to reach down and bring her into their bed.
She wants to throw a tantrum
for no doctor has returned her calls,
and she's reached her limit
of fever, cough, and bravery.
She remembers her mother blowing smoke
into her mouth to soothe a toothache.
Dentists cost money.
Sobbing was her currency.
She wants to wake the doctor on call,
find an arm to bring her to safety.
She wants to go to the emergency room
and get covered with warmed blankets.
I put my arms around this little girl,
cry briefly with her, and reluctantly,
I drug her with Valium,
put her to bed, and hear her recite,
if I should die before I wake…
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