Hope Unplumed by Maria Castro Domínguez


I lost you but found you. Hope. I hope you’re much better. I hope you know who I am. I hope I’ll be a better stranger, lover, daughter, friend. I hope. I hope to meet you where we broke the line, when you loosened your smile, a glass of red wine in your hands. I hope that our hope will be different. More of a tangible kind. Like. I hope to eat some home-cooked food. I hope. Not I hope this medication will work. Not I hope we will forget. Hope I want you as a neat orrery. A contra-empire presiding the world. Hope you take me to strange places. To a bottle half full. To a larder loaded with apples and bread. Hope you no longer have feathers. You’re Simic’s stone. Happy to be a stone. A flower in a store. A trickle of seeds scattered over our head. Hope there’s no cure for you. Hope there is a room for you yet. I want to find you always, around the corner, on the back of the chair, your yellow hat blowing against the morning breeze.

 

Maria Castro Dominguez is the author of 'A Face in The Crowd' her Erbacce–press winning collection and ‘Ten Truths from Wonderland’ (Hedgehog Poetry Press) a collaboration with Matt Duggan. She is the winner of the third prize in Brittle Star´s Poetry Competition 2018, a finalist in the 2019 Stephen A DiBiase Poetry contest NY, and was highly commended in the Borderlines Poetry Competition 2020. Her poems have appeared in Apogee, The Long-Islander Huntington Journal NY, Popshot, PANK, Empty Mirror , The Chattahoochee Review and The Cortland Review.





67 views

Recent Posts

See All