Fernando Trujillo
4 Untitled Poems
1.
Mountains black against the sky
Truck bed warm with blankets
You teach me the Tiwa word for “moon”:
Brown what words have I lost
Pale what even am I—
Light flashes, coyote eyes gazing
As you grasp me
Clouds break tumbling down
Our sweat mixes with the rain
And in the salt of us, I taste desert.
2.
I hear my name
But no one is calling—
Whispers trim shadows
That pull across the patio;
My burnt skin itches gleams in the sun.
Body—feelings—mind oh mind—
A cacophony of tensions
Come and go as the breeze turns,
As my moods pass:
I am not easy to live with.
3.
Flurries
Cascade in moonlight,
My face watered—
Words skip about
Fluid,
Melting
Between worlds—
A persistence of white
Turned clear,
Dark night permeating.
4.
He draws into me from across the bed
Shotgun kiss on his lips
Coughing—Laughing—
My eyes burn.
Where’s this night going
That it hasn’t gone before—
I find myself in the candlelight
Caught:
Moth wings ablaze
I’m glorious to behold.
Fernando Trujillo reads “4 Untitled Poems”
Fernando Trujillo is a poet in El Paso, TX. A law-school dropout, he scribbles poems in between shifts and on weekend hikes when the weather permits. He can be found on Twitter @HijodeMalinche