Before dawn I called for you,
my poem, but you didn’t come.
I had woken up to the song
of the cardinal perched
on the fence. You weren’t
at my desk in all the words
that I wrote down and crossed out.
You weren’t in my shoes nor in the letters
that had come and gone all month,
nor in the space held by my window,
its fourteen trees, its seven stars
that always lag behind.
All the roads of my eyes
would have plunged my brain or stumbled
out like light to look for you.
So I stepped out like a drunk
and pissed long and yellow in the ditch
and watched the steam rise slowly.
Soon the day of vendors
would begin. They would come
trumpeting new leather soles,
searching out dull knives, announcing
continents of apples and the faith
that burns in old radios.
Vegetable carts with ants
hiding under full crates and tired horses
leading them would come.
Maybe you too would come. Having
woken up to the song of a bird
whose name I knew, I said nothing
to myself, and with the spider,
the numb bee, the cat mirrored
in water, I bowed.
(Ernesto Trejo)
More Poetry from Ernesto Trejo:
Ernesto Trejo Poems based on Topics: Space, Water, Birds, Nature, Cats, Literature, Poetry, Belief & Faith, Letters- Entering A Life (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
- A Death In The Family (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
- The Cloud Unfolding (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
- The Arch Of The Sky Dream (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
- This Is What Happened (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
- E. At The Zocalo (Ernesto Trejo Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Birds Poems, Belief & Faith Poems, Water Poems, Literature Poems, Space Poems, Poetry Poems, Letters Poems, Cats PoemsBased on Keywords: crates, woken, trumpeting, radios, vendors, pissed