The Savior
The rain broke.
Stars shone like stars.
The same Scorpius
that looked down on me
in the desert?
Fixed for millennia;
I migrated, in reverse,
from dawn to dusk.
The night embraced me
with amputated arms. …
That’s the beginning of the second draft of a poem I’m working on. I guess the poem is a processing of sorts of my move from Las Vegas to San Salvador. If the next draft turns out well, I may submit it to small and mid-sized literary journals based out West (as they may be interested in the Vegas angle).
If there’s a lit journal you think I should consider, please let me know. (I’m out of the loop on that.) Gracias!
