Deborah Paredez Poems

i.
here: our forsaken home

mesa breaks desert
dialing curve of mountain
...

When no one else would listen, Saint Anthony
preached seaward, his words fishnet for the lost
souls of the heretics. Caught up in despair, we plea
...

You're flush with hearts and I'm forced to fold
this hand and swear off another luckless match.
How we've found ways to love each other, cajoled
...

All morning my daughter pleading, outside
outside. By noon I kneel to button her
coat, tie the scarf to keep her hood in place.
...

The day upturned, flooded with sunlight, not
a single cloud. I squint into the glare,
cautious even then of bright emptiness.
...

When the forsaken city starts to burn,
after the men and children have fled,
stand still, silent as prey, and slowly turn
...