Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

On my Bed Thinking about You You are voiceless, buried in a long-forgotten childhood hideaway, a dark jungle where every tree looks like every other tree. I long for your scent, your knees pushing against my thighs, but what is asked for is often destroyed by the very words that seek it. It is time for me to crack open my skull, invent a new way of looking at you. I know I am dying but why should that make a difference? I will build you a fortress that will stand forever, with a smile folding at the corner of my mouth, and a star sitting on the tip of my tongue, a lit stone around which your body can blossom. My bed will no longer be the fossilized prison where I learned to make love to you forever.

For those days when the lights switch on and off by themselves and I hear voice messages from longstanding enemies. For the good old days when I rely on verses I already wrote to keep from slashing my wrists. For the fear of failing that haunts me every December. Will this be the year my planet refuses to forgive me with a blush of green long enough to soothe my heartaches? For the assumptions of next winter’s chill and the quiet days in between. Your face among the poinsettias after every prayer and rainfall. The only image I long for.

Sorry, but I've been sick and in some pain.  Today I feel a little better.  Anyway,   s ome poems up at Thesongis