The mobile home of the Anima Sola
moves from bar to bar.
Damp edge of the table
the collection plate,
a dollar sticking to it.
Scratched on the prickle of raw brick,
patron saint on the shelf,
the icon stamped on a shakey-snowy.
her hands beseech from the fire.
If there were miracles, she wouldn't be alone in the flames.
Glitter falls from the dome.
The light wave turns into a particle that
falls in the middle of the table.
What looks like the sky is a trap.
Kelp & Bead
California takes everyone.
Blue the dahlia, the gardenia.
Palm leaves, a green as dark as soil,
orange spear of flower named after a bird.
Rain sweeps hard as hail on the baked-plate veranda.
Flat perpetual light, sullied by the desert beneath.
A whole country to protect us from the ocean.
For more information, email:
velvetflamingo@yahoo.com