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Romantic, and: Valentine's Day, and: The Sound of Doves, and: On the Wing

Romantic, and: Valentine's Day, and: The Sound of Doves, and: On the Wing ROMANTIC/Mflrgo Tamez A bull snake's six-foot coil muscles the soU in curls and messes. His tail is narrow, pointed and taut. Tm retieved he's not a rattler. I stand still over him, okay, no problem, you be here, I'll move down the path, his length woven around limbs of September's last Roprecos, the remaining tomatoes dark, moist, cool, near the earth where a sweet scent The phosphorescent trunks swelling like throats that spew green beads of nightshade dew. The lizard, beneath the vitex's blooms of violet skirts, has a throat in between birth and contraction. implies everything is rotting: romantic. Swirling like scrotum, stirring S's, the arched waves above and below rippled flesh. The lizard's hazel eyes are horizontal slants like a secret in my head, the lizard I see in my husband's face. Is this the last monsoon or is this autumn? I don't know when a season, a moment, a breath is anything different than what it is. Change is just change. The Missouri Review · 171 VALENTINE'S DAY/Margo Tamez Here, the dark sky and the city between us. will hold us over again. You on the farm every day. The cries of our babies A http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

Romantic, and: Valentine's Day, and: The Sound of Doves, and: On the Wing

Tamez, Margo.
The Missouri Review , Volume 24 (3) – Oct 5, 2001
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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © The Curators of the University of Missouri.
ISSN
1548-9930
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Abstract

ROMANTIC/Mflrgo Tamez A bull snake's six-foot coil muscles the soU in curls and messes. His tail is narrow, pointed and taut. Tm retieved he's not a rattler. I stand still over him, okay, no problem, you be here, I'll move down the path, his length woven around limbs of September's last Roprecos, the remaining tomatoes dark, moist, cool, near the earth where a sweet scent The phosphorescent trunks swelling like throats that spew green beads of nightshade dew. The lizard, beneath the vitex's blooms of violet skirts, has a throat in between birth and contraction. implies everything is rotting: romantic. Swirling like scrotum, stirring S's, the arched waves above and below rippled flesh. The lizard's hazel eyes are horizontal slants like a secret in my head, the lizard I see in my husband's face. Is this the last monsoon or is this autumn? I don't know when a season, a moment, a breath is anything different than what it is. Change is just change. The Missouri Review · 171 VALENTINE'S DAY/Margo Tamez Here, the dark sky and the city between us. will hold us over again. You on the farm every day. The cries of our babies A

Journal

The Missouri Review – University of Missouri

Published: Oct 5, 2001

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