Rich Villar

Aubade at 12:56pm

The draft in your windows wakes you.     
A jazzman reads you D.H. Lawrence,     
wishing your waist was muted trumpet,     
your moans the notes to Corcovado.

The sun refuses the order to shine, to bathe 
your closed eyes in winterglow, the deep 
red purpose of your bedroom:  I will 

compose an ode to the Triboro Bridge, 
the dervish upon which the city spins, wishing 
I was Miles, playing what is not there.

I will love you at 12:56pm, wake you 
open-hearted and magnificent,    
thunderstruck stargazer.

I will make love to you because you are a city—       

questioning light among descending clouds
orange blanket drifting up, then down, 
touching fingers, creator and creation.

Speak softly when you rise: yours 
is the kingdom of heaven.  Hold me like a hand 
at mid-afternoon dreaming the Portuguese words 
for stay, forever;   

Or, swim with me to the eternal.  
Dream me the word in Portuguese 
for what we are building.  




Rich Villar's poems and essays have appeared in Rattapallax, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Amistad, Achiote Seeds, and on NPR's "Latino USA." He has been quoted on Latino literature and culture by The New York Times and the Daily News, and he directs Acentos, an organization fostering community around Latino/a literature. 




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