I know you count my setbacks,
my dulled senses, so don’t pretend
to know where my heroes hide
their Elysian agitations.
I’m not surprised at how your tongue
skids over my nipples,
your breath heavy
on my neck.
Nuisance ran through all
the world’s water,
and left its muffled sorrow,
agitated flags and chorus
of new memories rehearsing hymns,
our regal miseries unearthed.
You are right, I do have a person
who doesn’t actually exist
to look up to, whose moon is as real
as the autumn sun, me.
Your eyes said, keep your door open
and I did. I rode your muted grief,
the tangled, fired-up tongue unloading its revolver in my mouth.
Sergio A. Ortiz is a retired English professor and bilingual queer poet. A Pushcart nominee, Best of the Web, and 2016 Best of the Net nominee. He took second place in the 2016 Ramón Ataz annual poetry competition, sponsored by Alaire Publishing House. His recent credits include Spanish audio poems in GATO MALO Editing, Maleta Ilegal, Frances House, South Florida Poetry Journal, Communicators League, RatsAssReview, Spillwords and several other journals.