by Mary Sesso
after Martin Espada
Praise the drop of blood
growing on my shirt that holds
a surprise, and for the first time,
watching a flock of chickadees
mob a red-shouldered hawk,
sullying the air with noise.
Praise stars that go to bed with you,
the rosebush, naked for months,
dressing in red after a whisper of rain,
and nightmares surrendering
to the pillow saying If you don’t
like us, write your own.
Praise nights that let daylight
sleepwalk through darkness, a rainbow
pinched awake when rain dries its hands,
and a red moon eclipsing the sun,
so cocky it thinks it can burn down
the sky.
Mary Sesso is a retired nurse who lives in Bethesda, Maryland. She has recently been published in Ravens Perch, Loch Raven Review, Cutbank Literary Journal and One Art. Her second chapbook, Her Hair Plays With Fire, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2022.
Emerge Literary Journal 