You’ve wanted to enumerate
every particle of dust, every layer
of sadness, number the blows delivered
in frustration, every trick to fool the moon
that cut your figure in half in its shadow.
But you can’t, so you bring your hand
to your head, discover that in that survey
there’s an image of yourself. It surprises you
that in its contours & distance ―barely
in its shadow― you still recognize yourself.
Something stops you. You said too much
& it got you into trouble. The old pain
that kept you awake shelters your feelings
of revenge. You can’t go forward like you want.
The desert you presume to remember
Sergio A. Ortiz is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a six-time Best of the Web nominee, and 2016/17 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Drunk Monkeys, Algebra Of Owls, Free State Review, and The Paragon Journal. He is currently working on his first full-length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.