All the objects in the world
once touched.
Every missing finger.
The scissors.
The strands of hair.
The locks locked inside a box.
The letters you wrote.
The saliva you used to seal
the unformed words
inside your closed mouth.
Everything here is a ghost.
The eucalyptus branches
yanked by the wind.
The devil behind the blowing.
His hot breath
running with the Santa Anas.
Every leaf shudder, a whisper.
Every tongue of grass
the dogs piss on.
Every tongue leaf stomped
by child’s cleats.
Every shout is
the same hollow reminder.
Every drop of sweat.
Every goalie. Every goal.
Every point blocked.
Every block.
Every parent absent
or late or texting.
Every missed play.
Everything played
over and over
again.
from Poetry Northwest WEBMore by Fernando Pérez from the library
Copyright © Fernando Perez
Used with the permission of the author
on behalf of Poetry Northwest.