Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

here, in the waiting room  of my life, the doors open  and close like clams

Poppies in gusts of powder snow I forget the wind can find a loose door joy shows its early bloom outside the dancing poppies nest

we are seeds in the clatter of mortality, a gate to the fog ... fierce as a ferret

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the injunction not to taste the fruit arrived from heaven's gate ... now twilight waits for what will come

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Madame Butterfly's faraway sea moves in my ears— the undulating flight of swallows and sparrows

fire, an abstraction... imaginary cover thrown across  the garden  of the real

this child learned the language of birds ... now he can follow the wind with his fingers

tremors from the fissures of my brain ... at the pen’s point do world and spirit wed

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his hand   slips under her dress pushes through the ring of dripping junipers

I began  writing poems on a gray stone bench, nothing was black or broken    and not a leaf fell 

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Madame Butterfly a far away sea moves in my ears.... vowels rise like balloons about to burst

he can no more  play with fire  and leave unharmed  than I can open doors  and let in rainbows 

how do I know  if a poem has too many  bubbles ... the moon opens her lips  to the rippling sound of water