In search of parchment, indelibility
Excerpt from Meteors, a collection of poetry
by Robert René Galván
Take this glowing script
As a burnt offering
Of chrism from my brow.
Midnight oil consumed
By the greedy darkness,
When my wick grows dim
And words become a relief
Of amoebic spectres
On the wall.
We are the same,
A whimsy of dancing hands,
Indigo faces in search
The stealth of youths
And the stench of sprayed
Rebellion in the trainyard,
A lover's vow scratched in oak,
Or in wet cement,
The bathroom bard,
Scars of melody on vinyl,
Frozen images on celluloid,
And shadows made fast on wafers
Of dead tree.
My own strokes are engulfed
Like footprints on the moon.
They are faint adumbrations,
A sack of spores
Waiting to be strewn
From the folds
Of paper birds.
An earlier version of "GRAFFITI" appeared in Sands.
My grandmother's raisined hands
Guide a new life through the meniscus of sleep
and into the blinding day.
This has been her ritual for fifty years:
The phone rings --
The metallic music of her black bag
Answers back as she flies to a neighbor's house.
She prepares her fingers in boiled water
As if to coax sweetness out of those dried figs
And waits for the mother to blossom.
But this one's a breach,
Poised as if trying to break his fall, feet first.
Calmly, she finds the baby's mouth
With her finger;
He bares down to suckle
And she turns him toward the light.
Age and aches have not dissuaded her
For her room is filled
With reminders of her faith:
A statue of La Virgen,
Bottles of holy water
Among brittle blades of palm,
And countless gift rosaries
That grace the bedposts;
She caresses each pearl
And prays for stronger hands.
for Woody McGriff, dancer
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed....
-- W.B. Yeats
An obsidian wing glanced my shoulder
Amid the languid trance of cicadas
Seething in the midday heat.
It fluttered like an errant leaf
And summoned the splendor of your dance,
Flight frozen like a Rodin bronze,
Fixed by a flash of incorruptible light.
But the heavy tide drew you under,
The once supple leaps reduced
To a lumber toward a distant sea.
Robert René Galván, born in San Antonio, resides in New York City where he works as a professional musician and poet. His last collection of poems is entitled, Meteors, published by Lux Nova Press. His poetry was recently featured in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Azahares Literary Magazine, Gyroscope, Hawaii Review, Newtown Review, Panoply, Stillwater Review, West Texas Literary Review, and the Winter 2018 issue of UU World. He is a Shortlist Winner Nominee in the 2018 Adelaide Literary Award for Best Poem. Recently, his poems are featured in Puro ChicanX Writers of the 21st Century. He was educated at Texas State University, SUNY Stony Brook and the University of Texas.