Monday, November 13, 2017

Change


By
Jackie Lopez





Good things come in open hand-bags.
Better things come when they are closed.
The change came in my blood.
My DNA  was activated by the morning sun.
I pray for patience.
I smell a desert in its wake.
I taste a leopard’s race.
My body, now, seldom aches.
I’ve caught a good news on a whim.
I’ve stolen pearls from a library once again.
I’ve got hopeful threats about me.
I take time to dance more often.
No one is saying that the change is coming, but it has already arrived.
The priest asks for forgiveness.
The tailor measures your soul beat body.
The answer is worn thin.
The dancer is measureless-she is air.
I have contrived to be a master musician.
I take turns on the loud speaker.
I mimic an Empire State Building.
I have cause for claustrophobia.
Some things I remember one thousand times.
Like all those years of samba bliss.
Like the wedding bells that never rang.
Like an omelet that has no form.
Like the coffee that was once worn.
I remember lipstick in the midnight.
I remember hairspray in confusing nights.
I heard blood carries hearts.
I have many of those memories coursing through my body.
My ancestors rebuild my body.
I’m horsewhipped on certain occasions.
I plagiarize when I give credit.
I take precaution however.
I make sure I melt into a word.
Love is freedom!
I hear a fresh start is among us.
I heard the powers that be are now desperate for us.
I think I’m going to learn sacred  geometry.
I’ve felt a pillow give me comfort.
Better still, I felt God give me comfort.
When I was a little girl,  I took to  hiding in closets.
If you want to hear that story, call me telepathically.

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