after we said all that

those things said the day after-

it rained


each drop a blemish

heralding our own mistakes

blending them in the present


I tied your words as a keepsake but-

your right hand, slippery and wet

stigmatized my left


left nothing

but quotation marks

that outline each us- inadequately

A poem is a machine

Quoting William Carlos Williams, A poem is a machine.

A poem is a machine, a machine made of words

the complicated set of cathartic needs regulates its motion

just above

the poet’s hand feeds

from a reservoir of

words, words, words – until

the whole stanza is soaked

and yet despite the abundance

certain of these manifold operations,


with the heat of emotion.

Poems by María Castro Domínguez

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