He was the epitome of masculinity with roots, buried deep
Gasping for air in the desert sands of Guadalajara, Mexico. From
Across the table he loved me. Standing in the kitchen he loved me.
Whispering the secrets of the world in poorly translated idioms.
I was nineteen when he picked up the couch. His dark skin
Looked so beautiful against the cream leather, its nylon seams
Blending into his own, the worn armrests unfolding into the hollow hills of his
Rolling shoulders. I held my breath as he slung it over the railing.
I swear it had feathers because it landed with a violent sigh seconds
after you would expect it to, two stories down. Several paychecks later he bought
a replacement but I never fully recovered, never properly mourned the loss
of the couch, our couch. Just gazed at it with envy as it sat free in the parking lot.
In my ear he breathes something about paradise. You don’t go to it, you bring
it with you. I remember this as I study the grout between the tiles. Picking me up he loves me.

Lena's Sonnet

She left before her scent could linger alive in your sheets
Before the sounds of soft things seeped through
And resonated like I resonated like I seeped
Pouring slow into the empty pores of you

Had she stayed, would you have kept her
While my portrait drips through the foggy window
The woman with piano key fingers
With little girl eyes, dark lashed and hollow

Reach, and touch the cold outlines of my veins
As they spindle through my body into yours
Can you feel them pulsing through the rain
Encapsulated rivers pooling at your bedroom door

You turn, a moment, hold your hand up to the glass
The clouds still drip for me, and you for me, at last

Haiku

One thousand paper
Cranes for my grandmother but
She died at fourteen.

Frame

I've seen her
stooping over the creosote
tracing the veins pulsing
through her wrist,
frail,
the bony planes of her desert hands.

And maybe she's seen me, too.

Pensive in the coolness
cataloging the breaths that
blow through her chest;
exhale
marking each one with a scratch on the wall.

waiting

to be Freed.

Remember Me.

lay yourself upon the grass.
listen to the silence of the earth
and remember.
let the memories flow like water,
trickling through the cerebrum,
pooling behind your heavy lidded eyes.

Do you remember, Do you remember me?
the labyrinth whorls of your fingerprints,
breathing in coffee and mint from the
puckered pores of your muddy spring skin.

loved one.
two children leaning against a tree trunk
drinking lemondade and
poking at our scabs.

Loved one.
two fish breathing bubbles of oxygen
under the glassy surface
of the deep, deep Pacific.

Lay yourself across the grass.
listen to the silence of the earth
and remember.

Efrain Oquendo

sweet
dripping through the roots
wading in the waters
of the earth.

beneath the cherry tree
you hold my feet
gently
between the rough palms
of your mestizo hands.

I sigh
and it is music
that you strum along to
with your heart.

Spring.
We are a melody to which
the ground turns
green to.
life happens.
I kiss you and my soul smiles.

Rome

He stretched his neck to the side and said with a smirk, "When in Rome."

Two seconds later he was double-fisting, a shot of cheap tequila in his left hand, an even cheaper pint of beer in his right. If I had to guess, it was probably Natural Ice. But I didn't guess, that way I wouldn't have to deal with being right.

I was the sober girlfriend at the bar in charge of the car keys. Again.

I didn't bother pointing out the fact that we weren't in Rome, but in a shitty highway town somewhere inbetween Arkansas and Oklahoma. Nor did I point out that we only had a few dollars left and a few more states to go til we reached California. What does he care about gas prices when it's Ted's birthday.

"Shots all around!"

Pulling his ear down to my mouth I asked, "Who's Ted?"

He shrugged me off. Another shot of tequila burned his throat. "Ted is everything I've ever learned and loved about life."

This, slurred, between stumbles. This, slurred, as I clenched the keys to the pickup inside my fist. I didn't bother mentioning that he's only known Ted for three quarters of an hour. Nor did I point out that he isn't capable of learning anymore than he is capable of loving.

Nobody noticed when I slipped out the front door of the tavern and into the parking lot. Nobody saw the dust kick up into the air as his suitcase smacked onto the dirt, busting open and spilling his ripped levi's and stained drawers into the space beside me. Nobody heard the engine kick into life and steer toward the open highway, destination California.

When in Rome my ass.

Spring Showers

It falls, softly.
I watch the pavement bleed
to grey, one drop
drop
at a time.

Through the cracks they come.
In lines, in mobs, frantic.
Weavers, Jack Jumbers, Bullets by the hundreds.
Escaping
one painful inch
inch
at a time.

The worms come out, too
Sliding up from below.
Snaking their way through the soil,
the sidewalk.
But the rains just too hard.
They start floating away
away
one life at a time.
one life at a time.