Alicia Viguer-Espert, born and raised in the Mediterranean city of Valencia, Spain, lives in Los Angeles. A three times Pushcart nominee, she has been a featured poet at numerous venues within the greater LA. Her work has been published in Colorado Boulevard, Lummox Anthologies, Altadena Poetry Review, ZZyZx, Panoply, Rhyvers, River Paw Press, Soul-Lit, Amethyst Review, Odyseey.pm, Live Encounters, and Spectrum Publications, among others. Her chapbooks To Hold a Hummingbird, Out of the Blue Womb of the Sea and 4 in 1, focus on nature, identity, language, home, and soul. In addition to national and international publications, she is included in “Top 39 L.A. Poets of 2017,” “Ten Poets to Watch on 2018,” and “Bards of Southern California: Top 30 poets,” by Spectrum.
Torrents of light filter through windows,
disintegrate into floating planets
I fear will collide against each other,
instead, they lift before reaching the Cordoba carpet,
dance in a universe stretching into galaxies
of dust motes sparkling mysteriously.
Outside, dusty silver from olive trees sway in the wind,
-a mute castanet concert behind stained glass-.
Celestial blues above contrast
with scattered leaves turned pomegranate.
A lynx passes by, brisky feet marking a rhythm
as ancient as my memory of the Caliphate.
Under the cerulean tiled dome of the church,
in my head, someone plays a guitar,
a strong sultry tune perfect for a tablao.
Pagan gods descend to the pews, genuflect, clap.
Nightingales push the heavy wooden doors
joining the worshipers’ party.
The rosette introduces light to rainbows,
I cannot help myself, and clap with the gods.
October’s Last Facing the Pacific
I sit on a bench outside my cottage,
October’s last day sparks
as if to say, “match this,”
and I can with thousand days
at another cottage facing my sea’s
impossible blues diluted or darken
depending on season and hour.
A song flies over my head and I catch it
with dendrites of memories and clouds of nostalgia,
a childhood woven with threads of photographs,
feet in the water, a few crabs inside a pail,
a blazing line of color behind my back,
waves I tried to capture to my dismay
as they dissolved as the bubbles they are.
Adolescent walkers cross the view of the horizon,
their outlines, cutouts of darkness, avoid sea urchins,
I look through crimson sunsets, spumous surf,
evening light modestly thinning itself out to compensate
its extravagant beauty rolling in front of my eyes
as ping pong balls bouncing. I inhale the aromas
of iodine and orange blossoms that nourishes me.
I write a love letter every day
to us strolling the Mediterranean shore,
counting constellations between kisses,
a full moon admiring herself in water,
your shadow entering the port of my arms,
this hope that, like Odysseus, you’ll return
keeps me alive, while it has aged me twenty years.
For other contributions by Alicia Viguer-Espert, please follow the links below:
Poetry in this post: © Alicia Viguer-Espert
Published with the permission of Alicia Viguer-Espert