LatinosUSA

Amaryllis

You forgot you were
a Christmas gift.
You bloomed instead
in February.
 
If I could flaunt
a bright red dress
just once a year,
I’d want to make
an entrance, too.

Gently Used

I dropped my womb
off at Goodwill,
but they refused to take it.
Although it was gently used,
they said it was an oddity
that nobody would buy.
 
I told them it had served me well,
and could be used by others.
It could be a counter box
to store some day-old bread,
or gifted as a goblet,
or hold the ashes of somebody’s
dear old dead friend Jed.
 
They nodded, said it
could indeed serve
many other uses.
 
They gave me a donation slip
and gently used a broom
to push me out the door
before I gave them
something else I’d used
they’d never seen before.

Seasons

continue uncontained,
a puzzle of coincidences 
and connections,
rooms within dreams
within light within sound,
unpierced by skyscrapers,
undaunted by solitude,
inevitable, inescapable,

no matter how much
I complain.