prayer
was said to remember the secrets of our
brown skin ancient like dark mother
earth.
[Clouds]
its late into the night of this
August summer and I sit quietly
with closed eyes feeling all the
years behind me without a thought
in mind. I put down a book that
made good company filled with
an inexplicable happiness the stories
of Julio Cortázar succeed to deliver.
in the dark, enjoying the light of a
small lamp, I imagine voices shouting
from pages to describe the clouds hiding
a sky full of stars, leaves rustling in near
autumn trees, lovers parting again with
unbearable regret, and a child about to
speak. I lean forward like someone in a
mystery waiting for words to lunge from
the dark, which in great stories, find many
ways to say you are beloved on earth.
[The Amusement Park]
the rain stopped, and the Sunday dress
kids in the building waiting it out, begin
to walk quickly in the damp air toward
church like people with unfinished
business. time in Tito’s pocket ticked
loud enough for him to clinch his hand
around a strapless watch before it got
all used up. they waited patiently for God
to speak each Sunday but only noticed the
priest a little more bald, widows dressed
in black, babies loudly crying, young girls
with scarves covering their long hair, and
most of the block praying for another Paradise.
their hearts that morning were already in the
amusement park sitting on the side of a
New Jersey cliff, inviting them on Easter to
fly beneath the clouds in wild rides to make
them hold the air. with their eyes closed in the
middle of Mass where a little bell sounds ringing
faults, they whispered to each other imagine what
it would be like to have to spend the day here and
never Palisades Amusement Park. when the tolling
bell stopped, the six friends popped their eyes open
and dashed to happiness waiting on the other side of
the church front door. despite the raggedy sermon
not one of them felt mortified, the slightest bit lost
or need for Christ’s salvation—maybe next year the
priest will convince them to forget the sinful times
at Palisades Amusement Park and see things,
otherwise.
[The Blue Note]
I liked coming out of the Blue Note
that autumn night with the long slow
walk past people sitting on the slanted
benches of Washington Square Park,
the occasional leaf tumbling down on
the heads of kids riding skateboards,
students marking pages in their books,
the middle-aged chess players focused
on a game, and on the south end of the park
toddlers shrieking with attempted swings on
a jungle gym. I looked up at the night sky
convinced I could reach out to polish the
stars to help them cast more gracious light
on every toiler here. slowly, I made my
way down half-deserted streets trying not
to step on the sidewalk cracks, nearing
home, I prayed for Eden’s distant friends
led astray and looked on all the quiet corners
for stirs of sweet life.
[Yard Sale]
early one morning in front of Leroy’s
ground floor apartment a sidewalk sale
was underway with a baby crib, records, two
chairs, a desk lamp, an old bicycle, worn clothes,
a broken-handle toaster and a checker set. the
Irish lady who put the sale together hoped to
get a little business from the new Puerto Rican
residents pouring out of a storefront church, though
they never heard a Doris Day record, asked what is
checkers, and reserved an entirely different taste in
clothes. Leroy told me his mother hatched the idea
to earn a little money to help pay the
