WHEN THE WORLD REACHED A DIFFERENT AGE

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I pinned my astonishment to his lips.

His black elephant eyes bled, saved 

the light that sprang from under his hair.

Sun, shadows, dreadlocks on his face.

Bandy, like grapes and winepress.

I rebuilt the fever, and sunsets fluttered

in his socks. Him, medium in years, 

thirty-seven. I tumbled off his neck

when under his briefs two fragile ships 

began to submerge into my bloodstream. 

What did I do? Am I infatuated? 

No, not love. Please, not again.

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San Juan, 2021

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ELECTRIC GOSPEL CHOIR TWO-HAND STRUM

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What am I missing? 

                 Daggers fly out of my eyes 

the way kittens 

play with butterflies

    —Small

clenched hands 

No laws could jail this pain

The mirror 

         my ugly fucked-up sepia

reflection 

                      –Small 

size of darkness on a cross 

      -Small  

Blood on my back      

Keeps me safe

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San Juan, 2021

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TWISTED 

 

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all this falling 

in and out of love 

every weekend 

deviant

it started at the family 

dinner table, listening 

to questions directed 

at digging up dirt 

gnawing in and out 

of love       twisted

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San Juan, 2021

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Sergio A. is a retired, Bilingual, Queer PRican educator. He is a Pushcart nominee, Best of the Web, and Best of the Net nominee. He took second place in the 2016 Ramón Ataz annual poetry competition, sponsored by Alaire Publishing House. He workshops his poetry in RatsAssReview. His recent credits include Spanish audio poems in GATO MALO Editing, Maleta Ilegal, Frances House, South Florida Poetry Journal, RatsAssReview, The Maynard and Spillwords.

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