Three poems

 

Deuces Wild

I think of carrying on
as before
pot of emptiness
deck of fabled fullness of days
I think of you going, gone

There’s no chance of we meeting
again here
neither cathedral
ransom nor carnival gamble
may press our paths’ crossing

All lures and embraces past
draw elsewhere
as far away behind
while the heart deals a new world
different from the summer last

Uncertain odds loom at large
in nature
say a bum coin, but
still immutably radiant
like God’s face losing at cards

 

Sob Stance

Please, baby, don’t lose me now
in your arms
keep me where I’m caught
I’m your keepsake, keep me intact
all through this slow dance somehow

The light is hardly light on
picture frames
in rooms and doorways
when it doesn’t shine on your face
and I’m without warmth alone

What’s to see when everything’s
what it seems
what’s to heal or set
free out of a thousand birds let
loose sans the laughter of wings?

Be the queen most apparent
in my dreams
take my side in God
high up on a chariot ride
to wonderlands past midnight

 

Saturday

Dawn is a chain of bud, sprout,
growth that I roll king-size for
God’s golden power lighter;
it burns, dresses down (bare,
bright!) for my and the crude
delight of bug, bird, beast

Just as I like your face (warm);
your lips pursed for the morning
kiss or merely scrunched up to
suggest the simplest smile —
your first for the day, de
trop for this early worm

But you soon up and dissolve
about chores; smothered, I guess,
under my craziest gaze.
Near noon, a cabal of me,
the cats, dog spy on you
(climaxed!) over laundry

You sleep the afternoon through.
Not because I let you, but
so my act of contrition
may pass by unnoticed —
back in the garden warding
pets off your roses

Give me your hand; let me lead
you where dusk is a strand of
hair stroked just so, informing
the breath (a cardinal
moment) and body (a
single complete movement)

Rosendo M. Makabali is a technical writer in a government office and the employees cooperative.
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