Jo Reyes-Boitel – Poetry

blue house

my torso an antique bird cage
holding all of myself in

I walk the hundreds of kilometers between our houses

drunk or not, mad or not,
with an urge sometimes,
my steps end at your door, often locked,
for the inevitable conversation

I call out was a reminder for the universe:
it’s already too late
I’ve marked myself taken
and so I wait

and maybe it’s the universe acquiescing to my claim,
maybe the incantation, the repetition of our names together
or the full-winged dove who has made himself a home in the yard

but I calm for a minute, enjoy the view from my bedroom window
leave my doors always open
I wait

heavy that corner of my home
when I finally see
nothing is so strong
that I must throw my heart out
and wait for another precious thing
to nestle there.

give away

sometimes all I can manage is the coffee pot no sugar, splashed milk
there’s no love in the act of shifting the spoon
one side to the other

my friend Gloria left a message this morning
said she cannot support women anymore
that the world has to do without her hands and ears

barren breaths, the wetness in the air is gone
mothers all around us have come to term
and still no birth

they say the world cannot be carried inside anymore
but folks just don’t listen

mothers are good, would give their six month notice –
even that won’t be enough to restructure the change
we’ll all be left like houses without kitchens

what might be different then in the warmth of my coffee
if women stop holding the universe in their bellies?

Jo Reyes-Boitel is a writer, motivator/supporter, mother, daughter to oya and obatala, rabid music listener, percussionist and lover. texas transplant, by way of minnesota | florida | mexico | cuba. jo works to actively connect everyday earth activities to the heaven that surrounds.