Three Poems by James Sanchez

There is a tear in my eye

As I write the obituary for us
It tickles as it sallies down the contour of my cheek
Monday mornings we sat at a café counter
A well worn paper in my hands
A well fingered Blackberry in yours
Ambient sounds
Din of working class life
Coughs sighs laughs sneezes
Bitter truths
We are lost
I steady myself against the desk
The one purchased on a Sunday at the bazaar
It rained
We walked to the tent
You smiled
Smile of contentment
Insouciant
No strings love
You hired him on a Tuesday
Or was it…
Young wild
Drug addled but free
Unencumbered by the rituals of domesticity
It was gradual
I have that
No whirl wind
Like the shore line of Daytona
We faded methodically
A puddle forms on the space bar
Iloveyou

Juana held her sanity tightly

A newborn clinging to a mother’s once chiseled legs
Her edge has shifted towards the rear of the mind
Space between lost loves
A stream rolling
Carrying the recognition
The bed is unmade
Paper Mache Mountains
Formed from hate fucking
The lust for meaning
To have a place to settle one’s bones
Sweat stains mingle with confused sperm
Purpose in conflict with action
He was drenched in liquor
A glance across a bar
A siren’s call
The wreckage gathers at the foot of an altar
Worshiper of sleep
Offering for the uninterested god

I touch her hand gently like wispy sigh

Her eyes tell me to proceed with dread
Black embers of self-doubt draw and quarter my resolve
It was all a game before
Polite gestures
Unsure hand placements
Corrective glances
I was so new
Twilight bathes her tonight while she hums along to others melodies
I have been waiting for my chance
She sweats deception and intrigue
The rivulets of strain and excess escape towards the bottom
I am mesmerized by…
She turns to see who it might be
Who it should be
I smile with the ease of one who knows
She wipes her eyes

James Sanchez is a Poet and Teacher from Hialeah, Florida. He holds a B.A. in English from Florida International University. He teaches English and Creative Writing at Ronald W. Reagan/ Doral Senior High School. His work has appeared in The Apeiron Review, The Weekenders, and The Acentos Review among others. He resides in Miami with his wife and son.