XOCHITL-JULISA BERMEJO

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Photo by Jeff Sirkin

LOVE POEM OF COMFORT

Let me knit lines

like a blanket,

sew pages

for a book, boil

caldo long enough

to soothe the chest.

On second thought,

let me clear a shelf

for an altar built

of brown bags

carrying islands.

Eyes ask,

Can you believe it?

because they want

to believe.

“I’m making

the same damn face,”

you say as if it’s wrong

to be a red thread

crossing the Pacific.

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LOVE POEM FOR THE CARETAKER

By night, the ZZ plant dreams

of embraces & midnight kisses.

By day, its leaves plant

open palms to a window.

Turn around, young ZZ. See

the one gazing upon you,

capturing green in photos.

The photographer loves what’s outside

& in. A houseplant here, a lime tree

there. The lime tree snags

those who dare pass too close

with its thorns even as it imagines

what it means to be admired.

New fruit clings to branches.

The tree, the photographer,

& the plant wonder, What’s next?

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LOVE POEM OF MEDITATION

. : . : . : Sunshine & glass wash a breakfast table magnificent : . : . : . : . : . : . : .

: . : like your very own Sagrada Familia. : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : . : . :

. : . : . It’s no surprise you honor mornings as sacred. . : . : . : . : . : . : . : .

: . : . : . : . : . : . : I’ve witnessed your attendance, . : . : . : . : . : .

: . : . : . : . : . how you listen to trees & teens with equal reverence. : . : . : . : .

. : . May you always find awe in each day’s light & shadow. : . : . : . : . : .

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LOVE POEM FOR THE TEACHER

If the farthest I travel from you

is the closest I come to nature,

then distance is a blessing,

time a balloon, love a wetland.

I admire a lizard scurrying into

brush, listen for mourning doves

asking, Who? I’m reminded of you

dancing in red polka dots against

the rain. How red-winged teachers

fought brackish conditions together

calling, NOW! And the children

race up the hill, as children do.

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LOVE POEM OF HOME

You, my friend, are cosmic

earth, stars, & onions.

The Empress’s tree blooming

pink foliage, & you glow.

I could be happy as a daisy

nestled in your chestnut hair,

but the universe decided

otherwise, gifted us a home

for the summers, called us rich.

This is my prayer of thanks.

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LOVE POEM OF HISTORY

What gives

comfort to

the jagged

edges?

“Friends

basking in

literary goodness.”

I wish you

dusty books,

slick succulents

kissed by rain.

Strange days

short circuit

sensory

systems,

but remember

the arches of

Rome. They stand

after the fall.

Structure

& strength

at your sides.

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