“Psalm For The First Light
Lord,
I have always wanted a woman
to share first light with.
Let her be Puerto Rican, Lord,
with brown eyes and good humor
and lips. O, Lord, let her have lips.
Let her always kiss me
the way shadows kiss dawn.
Let her kiss be the dark streaks
between sunbeams, negative space
that says yes, then no, then yes.
Let her kiss be the thing that separates
wakefulness from dreaming. Let her
kiss like there is no difference.
Lord,
I have always wanted a woman
whose kiss is like the first light.
Lorca, your servant, wrote about this.
Dawn in New York, he called it.
Let her kiss render even Lorca mute,
powerless, a blank page he needs to fill
with bullfights.
Let even first light weep
at its insufficiency.”
―
Rich Villar,
Comprehending Forever
