I imagine him lying on his back,
gaze to the azure sky, white clouds—unlike
this grey New York on a rain-drenched day.
Notebook at his side, sheets splotched from an ink pen;
pipe in hand, hat off, wispy hair rustling in the wind.
Leaning on an elbow over wet dandelions he slaps
at a buzzing fly. The poet reaches for language
until evening falls.

At last, he stands,

dusts off trousers and heads for the pub. After an ale or two,
“Come to me,” he’ll whisper to a ginger haired mate,
“when the gaslights grow dim.”
That was that, life, not fate.

Walking home, pondering the vastness of an indigo sky
the poet falls in love,
the way old men fell in love, with unspoken desires
and hearts that broke into clusters of stars,
winked back at a bespectacled stare with failing sight.

Illuminated streets were new.
Everything gleamed with the shine of progress,
railways and motor cars—
democracy in action. The nation belonged to men of ambition,
ladies and their heirs. He, with his rhyme-less verses pertained to no one,
or so he rigorously declared.
On a fair day, the friend and he hiked through the woods,
vigorous in intent, thought and perseverance.
They had wine and bread, clever banter.
Perhaps, they swam in the river.
While their flesh dried in the sun, one read to the other.
On such days the poet felt alive again,
the feeling a treasure to store with saved letters,
scraps of new, memories of youth.
That way he’d remain immortal,
virile in the minds of romantics.

Rhetorical questions were for lesser minds.
The poet would be the one to ask.
True pleasure was soup served out of the kettle.
He’d killed the turkey or duck, twisted its neck,
plucked feathers, pulled out liver and gizzards.
Heart dropped on his own tongue, raw.
Everything else went into the boiling pot.
Later, meat melting off the bone,
potatoes, carrots and love, sweet and warm,
the poet called out, “It’s done!”

Ana Castillo is a celebrated and distinguished poet, novelist, short story writer, essayist, editor, playwright, translator and independent scholar. Castillo was born and raised in Chicago. Among her award winning, best selling titles: novels include So Far From God, The Guardians, and Peel My Love like an Onion, among other poetry: I Ask the Impossible. Her novel, Sapogonia was a New York Times Notable Book of the Year. In 2014 Dr. Castillo held the Lund-Gil Endowed Chair at Dominican University, River Forest, IL and served on the faculty with Bread Loaf Summer Program (Middlebury College) in 2015 and 2016. She also held the first Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz Endowed Chair at DePaul University, The Martin Luther King, Jr. Distinguished Visiting Scholar post at M.I.T. , among other posts. Ana Castillo holds a Ph.D., University of Bremen, Germany in American Studies and an honorary doctorate from Colby College. Her most recent titles, Give it to Me (a novel) and Black Dove: Mamá, Mi’jo, and Me (personal essays/memoir) received LAMBDA Awards. In 2018, Dr. Castillo received the PEN Oakland Reginald Lockett Lifetime Achievement Award.

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