Ada Limón Poems

Now, we take the moon
into the middle of our brains
so we look like roadside stray cats
...

Witness the wet dead snake,
its long hexagonal pattern weaved
around its body like a code for creation,
...

We'll say unbelievable things
to each other in the early morning—

our blue coming up from our roots,
...

No shoes and a glossy
red helmet, I rode
on the back of my dad's
...

Say tomorrow doesn't come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
...

Careful of what I carry
in my head and in my hollow,
I've been a long time worried
...

The sun is still down and maybe even downer.
Two owls, one white and one large-eared,
dive into a nothingness that is a field, night-beast
...

I like the lady horses best,
how they make it all look easy,
like running 40 miles per hour
...

All these great barns out here in the outskirts,
black creosote boards knee-deep in the bluegrass.
...

Despite the morning's gray static of rain,
we drive to Churchill Downs at 6 a.m.,
eyes still swollen shut with sleep. I say,
...