Oh, Miguel, with your cat-milk eyes.
Tell me again how the road winds
to your reserved place in heaven and
how your abuela gave you a new name.
How the belly of the sugary sky
gave you feathered-serpent legs
and chafed hands that paint
spinytail landscapes and rows of allspice.
Can I rub your chestnut cheekbones,
and trace the pillowy partings of your hair,
and dip my tongue in your holy watering
mouth that forms U’s at the end of my name?
Then tell me again how you used sorcery
in silos of magical corn that smokes
like you do on the poet’s stage.
Will you clayskull Spires in my dreams?
If so, I will drink your chocolatey sweat
and wonder how your body is a guitar string,
how your fists in our Revolutions still burn.
Tell me, Miguel, who else is like God?
About the Creator
Paul Aaron Domenick
The results of my poetry and fiction are unconditional in that every piece I publish is a singularity of sufficient creative struggle. It is in exchange with you that the struggle is extended. So, thanks for reading and responding.
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Comments (1)
Very dense language with precision and unexpected metaphors that grab one's attention. 'Oh, Miguel, with your cat-milk eyes' – This metaphor should be filed under excellence. Two worlds inside feline, human eyes. The world of innocence and that of cleverness. 'How the belly of the sugary sky gave you feathered-serpent legs' Here I like the way the ability to be simple, to be able to wind your way through, but at the same time to protect yourself and your friends is described. The passion for life and companionship overflows with beautiful images. It sounds like a wish to me at some point. I have a lot to think about after this, and you can be sure that your writing stands out. Brother man, I want a coffee now so I don't scratch my head out of bewilderment. Bravo to you, you certainly took me out of my comfort zone. Continue like this. Excellent poem!!!