• Love Poems

    The Swallows of La Ciénega

    La Ciénega slept on a muted afternoon At old Las Golodrinas, when I spied a nest Of swallows beneath the age-worn latillas, hewn By a hand that is gone with the days that were blessed; And I promised to knit for you a pair of gloves From the cotton that falls from the cottonwood trees Like the snows of antaño, and send them with doves Through your heart’s open window on late summer’s breeze; And to make for you the finest purse from the skin Of the coy trout that feed on the soft floating seeds That fall on the river, to put my sonnets in With a Rosary of…