Poetry: Michoacan

Michoacan

 

After years, I anoint you,

holy oil righting wrongs

so all I see is the gold

 

my touch turns you into.

In that colonial, alchemical city,

as we rest beside a fountain,

weary of gilt cathedrals and

 

jacarandas’ purple flares

on late-Lent sky.

Your gorgeous head on my lap,

 

striking as a mass of bougainvillea;

heart-stirred into the next day.

Ferry boat and serenade—

old man and beat-up guitar;

 

you and I are an attractant, caught

like ghosts at a séance,

laughing, testing our miracles

before ascending the heights

 

of that ancient island, stripped

to bare limbs and copper

skin, until we can see

 

for miles,

but not

what stands

before us.


{Originally published at Dulcet Literary Magazine, November 2024, with interview.}

Tricia Gates Brown

Tricia Gates Brown has worked as a professional editor and co-writer since the mid-2000s. Though the bulk of her current work is for the National Park Service and Native tribes, her expertise is broad. She has experience in academic and creative writing and strives to honor an author’s tone while improving a written piece. She holds a PhD from University of St. Andrews and edits everything from academic works to poetry, while her own essays, creative nonfiction, and poetry have appeared widely in journals. A 2022 Independent Publishers Award (IPPY) Bronze Medal was awarded to her novel Wren.

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