By Albino Carrillo
It is the time
It is the time of
Gathering bags
Of dog food & weed
It is the time of
Taking stock in cans
And containers, seeds
And the boxes of
Macaroni and cheese
The plastic pans
To hold leftovers.
It is time
To gather water,
It is time to
Think about your father.
The things your mother
Could do when she
Was young. Like wander
Through the fields
Looking for fairy circles,
Birches to swing by, hooded
Saints of the could
Have been woods. Curled
Up in the couch, it’s a should
Have been dream
Like you have when no one’s home.
Poems in The Antioch Review, Puerto Del Sol, Blue Mesa Review, CALIBAN, The South Dakota Review, and many others. Books: In the City of Smoking Mirrors (University of Arizona Press, 2004) and Uranium Days (Saudade/Argus House Press, 2015).