Nocturnal Fear
I listen to the smooth rowing of his breath
from one shore to the other side of dreams,
consciousness, a gently rhythm of sloshing
water fills the bedroom like music.
I panic when it deviates its course
the lengthy pause of a median size rock.
I fear the boat not reaching its destination,
getting stucked in the middle of the river,
currents frozen, wind paralyzed in midair,
a suspended cloud adrift from her sisters,
gone, dissolved into nothingness.
He’s not aware, of course, of my anxiety,
my watchful eye scanning the surrounding
darkness, my attuned ear bent like a leaf
in the direction of his green center.
I cross my hand over his heart,
let it rest until I feel a movement,
the soft vibration of the soul
inhabiting his chest.
There is a Poem on the Floor
says my husband as he passes by.
I pick up the 8½ x11 sheet of paper
which is blank, realize the poem
is on the floor planks shimmering
burgundy under the light.
The slightly worn center of the hallway
has a history, a tiny splinter,
by the toe kick sun rays have lightened
its hard wood grain, one can see tree rings,
imagine its life at Mount Olympus,
watch Aphrodite lean on it standing
vigilant to protect her from Hermes
plans to trade sandals for favors.
My grandfather built it and danced
for years practicing Flamenco steps,
grandma walked from kitchen to bedroom
to tend their only daughter, my mother,
to a patio and garden where artichokes’
silky filaments bloomed iris purple.
She opened drapes to allow the morning in
the smell of coffee out, thru window screens.
My mother liked mechanical trains
the ones wound up with a key,
a damaged collection I inherited,
sat on a bench with a pillow by the bay window
to read her books, until my father courted her;
both lounged on a sofa, feet on the floor,
which have been sanded, stained
and polished so many times.
Still looks good. My husband and I
live in that house now which has so many
memories, mostly belonging to others,
lying on the floor like a poem.
BIO
Growing up in Valencia, Spain, light, color and the sea were the constant surroundings in Alicia Viguer-Espert’s life. Raised in a bilingual household, she began writing in English in 2017. She is the winner of the 2017 San Gabriel Valley Poetry Festival Book Contest for her book Holding a Hummingbird. She has read her poems at numerous venues within the greater LA. as a featured poet. Her work has been published in Colorado Boulevard, Lummox Anthologies, Altadena Poetry Review, ZZyZx Intersections, Spectrum Publications among others. She’s a 2020 Pushcart Prize nominee.
