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by Eliseo Martinez
The Will
To Live Sounds
like a good
sandwich
with the bread a little toasted
and the mayonnaise applied
generously over
all the generations that flow
backwards through time, starting
from us
(that's not my stomach
grumbling.
it's the ghost of my
grandfather
yelling for my mom
to get off the
goddamn
roof.
his watch says it's
3 o'clock but I know
it's really 1954
and the clouds in the sky
remind him that
he is tired).
Ordinary
Speed Of Ordinary Light
as still as
we lay on the grass, drunk
and in the park, our shadows roamed across
the ground.
they were oceans swallowing sand castles.
they were cities red in the soft heat of
evening.
we were heartbeats of a great ghost.
we were footprints in wet concrete.
eventually we went home.
eventually we took our clothes off.
eventually we fell asleep.
More
Poetry Row ...
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