Peck on you, Rosa
where are you anyway?
two missed phone calls
& the passing of days
Ready to hurt yourself?
Ready to hurt yourself again?
Honey, don’t fall in love
is really what he meant.
That little
avant guard-ista
tasty like a pizza
winsome winds
beneath her
coattails, and charm
like starry-eyed
minnows in a pool—
Of course! She was
in love, swimming in it,
that rapture, that steam.
You must go on
she told herself,
since love is never
the same thing twice, or,
at least it shouldn’t be.
I cannot go on
she heard herself
muttering, but I
but you but are you
so different? But yes
it is possible
and you, so lovable
like a trumpet
which plays at
the end of a hard
battle, the warriors
coming home,
and crying,
I will go on
I will go on
I will go on
Virginia Valenzuela 