jose araguz

I tagged
a chayo

the words leave
needles
under the skin

whatever was
being said
between us
lost in the repeating
rain

talking of dresses
she holds up
fabric
her smile folds
into words

black and white cat
circles in the sunlight
the quiet of
ink
across the page

after nights of
milk-water skies
moon
thin enough
to pocket

spots across
my grandmother’s hand
shadow and light
through the curtain
early morning

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