XI
One morning the spirit of my lover’s uncle returned
there was no fanfare no terror only a blue silhouette
translucent above our bed growing dim
I was the sole witness to this specter quiet
as the rising sun waking overhead I awakened
cold to see an Aegean blue figure hovering bedside
through his gaze and mustachioed grin
on the other side of his face a dazzling tremolo
of morning light streamed into this darkened space
and later that evening as we moved
through the neighborhood streets dead with aging trees
frozen sidewalks led us freely into the moonlight ahead
Copyright © 2018 by Ruben Quesada. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on June 7, 2018, by the Academy of American Poets.
“The poem is based on a true event. I awoke one morning and saw a figure standing at the edge of my bed. The final images of streets and trees echo the specter who is the central figure of the poem. This is a meditation upon the many forms of death that inhabit the world around us. This poem is my way of recognizing the beauty of those forms.”
—Ruben Quesada
Ruben Quesada
