by Sergio Ortiz

Nightmares, Secrets, and Museums

Think of me as Dionysus,
home resting, with a fetus in my leg,
as lasting less than a candle or a rock.

This road we travel is gust, unexpected
vibration on earth’s surface—it doesn’t
fancy us here any longer.
With barely enough time to learn
a few lessons, grapes shrivel,
leaves fade to their sepia dwellings.

Think of me as wordless translations
of poems dwelling in the silent spaces
all over this museum, as secrets
in a secret language.

Calico Eyes

He gave her a hot oily stare
soon as he realized someone else
could dream about her.

What if they changed the shade
of her copper skin, or if her eyes
were no longer calico?

What if she followed that man
to the movies and flipped
her phone number in his hand
just to watch the leaf storm

wade around his body?
What if she wanted to touch,
and lift him with her copper
right there in the dream?

Sergio Ortiz has a B.A. in English Literature from Inter-American University, and a M.A. in Philosophy from World University. His poetry has appeared in over 200 online and print journals. He has been recently published, or his poems are forthcoming in: The Battered Suitcase, Zygote in my Coffee, Right Hand Pointing, Poui: Cave Hill Journal of Creative Writing, Writers’ Bloc, and Temenos: Central Michigan University’s Literary Journal. Flutter Press published his chapbook, At the Tail End of Dusk (2009).