By Jay Klokker
–-for Manuel O., who star-gazed
Because the house where
your dreams became real
had stone walls and no roof
to block its view of the volcano
even now there come nights
when the ceiling of your bedroom
dissolves and you’re seven years old
keeping watch until dawn
while the night-singing birds
and blood-sucking assassin bugs
draw shadows of red across
the face of the moon.
Copyright 2015 Klokker