Nocturnes
Poetry by Octavio R. Gonzalez

 
I.

There is no word for it besides
where would you stand
 
upon what part
before lightning –
beside the lamp?
 
inside a cab,
shivering, almost…
 
The rain’s sharp strings
sizzle from your skin.
You laugh, so you fall
 
from the permanent
wind. Your shoes are untied
 
the bed is unmade –
the sky turns violent.
 
II.

The entire city scrapes
feet encased
in glassy temper.
 
Your musician’s ear
like a stranger’s nocturne:
echoing.
 

III.

‘We are different beings
for different things,’
 
and the fire
in his palms…
 
‘We are different
beings for different
things, some given
 
some taken back
against grey skies, leaden
with irony.’