Membrillo Leaves In a Storm
When the dust of our passion settles
When you are taken by fresher gusts
I will fade as the summer moon
a slow death making way for another.
I will fall as cathedrals built on sacred land
sinking into abysmal, forgotten claws
leaving kisses as artifacts for you.
You will join the unending list
made of languid covenants, lies, droughts.
As promises sowed
destroyed before harvest
by the hail of your disinterest.
I know this story well.
As winter to the crops, you are fatal.
Arid land that I am, I drink you.
This is no riddle.
A deluge of tears will whelm me,
purging you of me.
Still, I avoid higher ground away from you.
There is no fleeing your laugh
puerile and bleakly scattered–
teasing me as wind to a kite.
My descent will be ruthless.
Tossed and abandoned
as membrillo leaves in a storm.
I know this.
Yet each day, like a flower,
I stretch my frailty wide.
Hoping your boots wont crush me
as you march to other soil.
Leaving would be in vain. I am a coward.
I am desert animal. You are raindrops to my thirst.
I live off so little.
I am oafish and vassal
to the arrogance you emit.
Crumbs are all you need to lure me.
I expect no love to call my own
nor the fire to keep me from freezing.
Desert nights are as vile as your absence.
So I hide under the stone of our moments
holding the heat of our friction
when you dance in my arms
when I dream of staying in yours.
from Amorcito Maricón
© Lorenzo Herrera y Lozano, 2014