"Te quiero, mi amor, quiero.
Escúchame, por favor, recuerdo, recuerdo."
You dream he steps down from shadow,
descienda a decir y tu murmuras, "Las estrellas."
He whispers, “Dígame, por favor.”
Shaking your head, you ask his meaning,
repeating, “Las estrellas."
Sad, he bows his head,
so you go to him, and holding his gaze,
susurras, "Tus ojos son estrellas."
Smiling, he gently begins to kiss you.
Suddenly you wake, hablas español.
Lagrimas
We were so young
all those years
the touch
of your hands
how beautiful
your hand
on the nape of my neck
a small gesture.
Hiding in a dream
asleep somewhere in Spain
I still long for the light
golden green like olives
ripe and full of precious oils
first pressing sweet in my mouth
the seeds and skins
nothing wasted.
BIO
I live and work in New York City. I’ve had poems in Agenda (UK), The New York Quarterly, the Long Island Quarterly, iota (UK), The Centrifugal Eye, MiPOesias, Rumble, and Orbis Quarterly International Literary Journal (UK). I’m enjoying reading and writing even more, now that I’ve finished my M.A. in Theology.