by Samuel De Lemos
I wonder if Dante’s poetic place
smack in the middle of purgatory,
(it’s where all poets go after death)
all the great ones find themselves there.
Even those who never had a book deal.
After a hearty breakfast
of Huevos Rancheros
and hot steamy cafe con leche
In that vast ocean of metaphors
where one finds small,
plump, and juicy enjambments
perfect for otherworldly poems.
Then after a nice lunch of
lamb meatballs on crunchy
Dutch bread topped off with
We take a walk in the garden of similes—
Where there are lush trees full of ripe fruit
like cherries ready to be plucked, joyfully
collected in our gilded baskets.
Dinner is roasted Chilean Sea Bass
marinated in garlic and cilantro
served with a delicate glass or two
of buttery California Chardonnay.
It’s during this time
Neither in heaven or hell,
we recite our daily poems
like grace is
a lovely meal.