She sat in
the beanbag chair
guilty but not
contrite,
a child caught
in a lie.
“You gotta decide
whether you want
to stay married to me.”
She just stared into space
not taking any
responsibility,
just wanting it all
to be over.
Then I issued
the ultimatum:
“I’m giving you
two weeks to decide:
it’s either him or me.”
The Lesson In Retrospect:
if your beloved
takes more than
three seconds
to decide
if they want to
be with you,
RUN!
"These aren't poems. They're more like speeches from a movie that will never be made."
Pages
Wednesday, February 13, 2019
The Gravity of Faith
I shoot my petitions
into the
black
unending
night
like arrows
with tips
dipped in
fiery faith
and though I cannot
see where they
eventually
land
I smile
content
in the
knowledge
that all my prayers
will fall
back to Earth
answered
I rely on this
just as I
rely upon
gravity.
into the
black
unending
night
like arrows
with tips
dipped in
fiery faith
and though I cannot
see where they
eventually
land
I smile
content
in the
knowledge
that all my prayers
will fall
back to Earth
answered
I rely on this
just as I
rely upon
gravity.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Open Letter on Immigration
Dear young ones,
For years
I've seen them come
over our borders,
like dirty water
over a dam
and they even don't try to fit in.
They have their strange language
their awful food,
and they don't seem afraid
of our laws.
One of them even made
improper sexual advances
on your aunt,
my wife.
They come over here
and use our resources,
the ones your father,
and my father,
and my father's father,
built
and they squander them,
but they don't care
they just want a better life for
themselves.
I want to tell them
to go back where they came from,
but I know that is not right
because this world belongs
to everyone.
So, let us open our land
and ourselves to them.
Perhaps all these things
that worry me
will not come to pass.
Do not fear the white man,
he will not hurt us.
your loving uncle,
Ignacio
February 1, 1848
For years
I've seen them come
over our borders,
like dirty water
over a dam
and they even don't try to fit in.
They have their strange language
their awful food,
and they don't seem afraid
of our laws.
One of them even made
improper sexual advances
on your aunt,
my wife.
They come over here
and use our resources,
the ones your father,
and my father,
and my father's father,
built
and they squander them,
but they don't care
they just want a better life for
themselves.
I want to tell them
to go back where they came from,
but I know that is not right
because this world belongs
to everyone.
So, let us open our land
and ourselves to them.
Perhaps all these things
that worry me
will not come to pass.
Do not fear the white man,
he will not hurt us.
your loving uncle,
Ignacio
February 1, 1848
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