Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

elephant family killed  for ivory— homeless man gives kiss of life to a bunny thrown off a bridge

For my aunt Ruth, 86 years old she bears her decline  with a toothless grin,  silent  under a barrage  of unkind words 

winter fog looking for a needle in a haystack

watching the rain arrive street by street

whiskey over ice… the nudity       of men

she calls me by my dead uncle’s name whispering wind

Seventy Eight He was about mother’s age and stature when she died four years ago; stout and short but graceful, with the buoyancy of fresh foxglove bursting forth in summer. He’d hang a hammock and go for a walk on the beach. Wading his hips as his feet pressed the wet sand; salt seasoned the expression of joy on his face. Two bongo players about his age and black as his shirt, struck a harmony of rhythms he could not ignore. The sun reflected on his face emanated the happiness of an old freedom-song recaptured. For a brief moment, he eluded winter, but soon it would be time to return to the retirement house and dream about a good dance partner.

Rezo Señor, te espero en los espacios más resecos de una línea de piel que aun recuerda la humedad de cultivos amorosos. Señor, vamos a jugar a lamer las serpientes, disecar la respiración. Señor, el cansancio de dos siglos se deshila en soledades cotidianas y los erizos de calle pierden el miedo y te escupen .

The  Alembic                 Soft hair and humidity trickled from his chest to his belly button as I moistened my lips. When his fruit ripened I placed it in a container made of scented Spanish Oak and covered it with moss. But to me Jerez was not what gave him the fragrance of Montilla, it only forced me to savor the memory of his abdomen.

esta quietud que mora en el sueño calma mi marginación se viste de mujer para aproximarse al lago y cantarle boleros a las estrellas

Tangueras Eres el seductor arco de una bahía sin raíces, la gota descendiendo   sobre la penumbra, sustento de mágicas pisadas a la hora del suicidio. Bailas con el blanco la brisa silenciosa del SIDA donde tangueras sacan a pasear sus zapatos italianos y luego incineran sus lenguas clavadas en el falso orgullo. Te escupo. Eres hembra y macho castrado en las fiestas patronales, una simple invitación al polvo .

joined through life's trials... below our eaves chrysanthemums blooming

you are subject to me like a roof is subject to its walls I came to you with my earth damp and intimate collapses 

like a fish out of water, this body of mine hot in the moonlight… I am subject to you the way water is subject to the moon

assault weapons... the autumn moon  red  with carnage

my hand drops below her waist— tremulous and flushed

your young face  my point of departure, the line I follow down almost to regret laying time  on your body, motionless in sleep I'm always happy to wake you, my present late wintery day…  your whining  doesn’t sound like you but like a voice living inside other voices I mold you              but you choose your own dream, then shatter . . . if we only knew the answer I am torn                               between you and your eyes. A monologue: Does one divided by nothing equal infinity?  Published in Aha Anthology, 2012

broken hearts beautiful little children laid to rest fireflies flying brighter than the city lights

exiled from the bedroom I swallow a tear at daybreak my passion in tatters

after a few tequilas we agree to change… hunger moon cherry blossoms… a pocket full of soft stones fireflies brighter than the city lights… family reunion