NaPoWriMo Thursday April 15

Evil and Heart

He used to wake me up at five a.m.,
eight a.m. on Saturday and Sunday.

I’d stare into his eyes and ken that skinflint

angel caressing the most obtuse features

seizing my morning thoughtlessness.

All sorts of miracles occurred throughout

the day, tricks of the heart.  Then

he bought me an alarm.  I knew a rook

had made its nest in his trunk.  It was

as if he’d moved me back and forth

through dosshouses, I couldn’t sleep. 

My friends said I resembled a comma.

That was, of course, until I met Omar. 

He’d call me up at five a.m.,
eight a.m. on Saturday and Sunday,
and grunt like a grizzly bear
without constraints.

My teeth would actually chatter,

and my skin sounded like
roasted, crackling pig.

But my heart never did get over

those everlasting Monday’s when Steve

softly poked whatever cheek he’d chose

to kiss that day and say: honey, wake up!

©  Sergio A. Ortiz, April 15, 2010