Concert in the Cathedral of Renovation

Shadow of owl on the nave wall,
ghost eyes drilling into my skeptic’s heart.

Jízda Králů // Ride of Kings

every spring
a cavalcade bears the boy

trees logged off on
mountain slopes

In anticipation of my potential,
you carefully plucked me

We loved you for your expanse rolling miles beyond
the horizon which itself is far and faint. At our feet

Last night was the season’s first sharp frost.
The year is treading into middle age.

Orange tabby eating on pantry rug
won’t always be here. Neither will I—

We sat in the long, rectangular room
with the long, rectangular table topped

To steer at thirty-seven
miles per hour with the

grandma wanted to make
tamalitos de chipilín