Poetry by Miguel Rodríguez Otero
we hear trains rumbling away
from homes we’ve known
neither of us yet fully awake
vaguely wondering where
they may be bound for
a coastal town
some place across the border
we are not yet aware
that we’ve fallen in love
but we don’t stir
we pray the clatter on the tracks never ends
each clack a word we haven’t uttered yet
a stitch that sews the wounds
we’ve come here to soothe
our bodies travel
they explore sentences and certainties
in this room that has taken us in
we throw away the passports
disregard seat numbers
we speak of books and oranges and wine
in foreign languages
often leave questions unfinished
conversation crumbles into shorter words
our talk travels too
and the keys on the bedside table
jingle as the train rolls along
our senses suddenly sharpen
one day we will cross that border
hop that freight and look at landscapes
Miguel Rodríguez Otero’s poems appear in The Lake, Book of Matches, The Red Fern Review, Wilderness House Literary Review and Scapegoat Review, and are forthcoming in Last Leaves Magazine and DarkWinter Literary Magazine. He likes to walk country roads and is friends with a heron that lives near his home.
