Goodbye Bouquet
Our goodbye
tasted
something like
full-bodied
music composed
on flesh with
touches of light
and oak
mixed with salt
from my tears
and your skin
it tasted of
your hands
holding my face
while you pulled
my lips to yours
never parting
your dark eyes
from mine
it left
traces of
mocha and
berries
weekends
and wine
hints of passion,
joy, sorrow
and love
our goodbye
tasted of you
and me
writing now
alone
New York in Our Hearts
The sun shines in Ohio like any other spring
peeping out every four days or so
some rays even warm my bare skin
children ride their bikes
while neighbors sow seeds of light
in their gardens flags wave happily
as people pass by walking to the park
with their dogs
you can hear the singing
of the birds that tend to their nests
and I swing on the porch of my house
with the sway of sadness thinking
constantly about my violinist son in New York
he traded the stage for his dorm room
and the spotlight for the sunbeams
that filter through its window facing Grant’s tomb
the sole audience to his performance lamenting
the spread of death through the air
these days we all have New York in our hearts.
Alone
Not your powdered sugar lips
or the freshly cut mango
sprinkled with chile flakes
Not the hint of red wine in your breath
or warm bread straight from the hearth
no memory can sweeten
the bitter taste of eating
Sunday breakfast alone
Jennifer Rathbun, a Professor of Spanish and Associate Editor of Ashland Poetry Press at Ashland Unviersity, has published poetry in translation by Alberto Blanco, Fernando Carrera, Juan Armando Rojas Joo, Carlos Satizábal, Minerva Margarita Villarreal and Iván Vergara. She is the coeditor of the anthologies Sangre mía / Blood of Mine (2013) and Canto a una ciudad (2004).