Use Your Words
My son looks up from drawing plants with teeth,
says, “You’re long-gone when we’re at Dad’s,” then tries
to find a better green. I think I’ll weep,
or maybe raise my hand and give him five.
Poetry Prize
Motel Surrender
Lovers come best together when they come
undone, empty-handed, rendered dumb,
come down to their last card, a turning
way past desperation and cleaner burning.
Elegy for Tío Lazaro
Because he was already dying, he figured
there was no harm in huffing through 2 or 3 cigarettes
in the early morning before my mother would wake—
the animal of his thin, brown body lassoed
to an oxygen tank.
No Evidence
I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
One month later, my son was hit
and killed by a late model, blue Ford F150 truck.
My former therapist said I was being struck
by the perfect storm.
Sonnet #1: My Way
My husband likes to say that love is blind,
and little flaws are meant to be forgot.
This morning while washing out my thong
I checked his phone for texts, all is not fine
Makeup
We were afraid to jinx it, so when my daughter emerged
from her dark bedroom for the first time in what felt like months
and came to the table with her soft face caked in cosmetics,
we all stilled our gazes, made certain not to react