Where Love Is Ground to Wheat
for Maria Jesus Martinez
You were laid among lilies,
the thin skin of
the leaf, the interval, oak
pews bowing beneath the weight.
If a stone were cast, your mouth
would be the well anchoring the water's
wish. And the word you would speak
in that incommensurable depth
could unlock space with a paper key.
Beside the casket, I collect my tears
before they fall so I may look at you,
so the white down of children may fill the empty beaches again,
so the bees may store the honey
where mercy prepares the map
of the forgiven within us.
We are too many skies,
we who cling to the visible,
& the bread of my routines,
now absent of you,
are abundant with you.
From Museum of the Americas (Penguin Books, 2018). Copyright © 2018 by J. Michael Martinez. Used with the permission of the author.