José Luis Gutiérrez

Caveat Ode

A crow chasing a hawk shadow
is a reminder of where my fears go
before wreaking their necessary havoc.
The reflecting pool has swallowed
the day and spit out its teeth, some ear lobes.
Every breath is shorthand for:
surprise, you get another chance
to muck things up all over again.
Ballerinas are notorious for shitting
down gravity's throat on pointe.
In the latitudes of sleep clouds
are vandalizing the moon.
Your life has once more been
changed beyond recognition.
In this incarnation you're going
into a bank wearing a Nixon mask
to deliver flowers.
Over there you're six and are given
a sousaphone to master as a
musical instrument. You think
it might better serve its function
as a birdhouse.




--
José Luis Gutiérrez is a San Francisco-based poet. His work has appeared in Eratio, The Cortland Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Scythe, Margie, Caliban, Poemeleon, DMQ and is forthcoming in Kestrel, among others. He works as an interpreter and translator in the Bay Area. His first book of poems, A World Less Away, was published in 2016 by Pariah Dog Press.