Darn That Dream by José Luis Gutiérrez

The orange blooms
of the trumpet vine sex
the late summer air.
In this way,
I’m rent
by the season.
Drones in a mantra
of wings
dive and hover,
collect the spoils
of what thrives
on stem and vine.
They thread a prelude
of pheromones
in the nameless day.
Music is what happens
in the space between
the notes.
The scent of jasmine
valences her absence
at dusk.
In this leafy archipelago,
light and shadows
dance in coils
spark galaxies that
drift and cohere
in equal measure.
Nothing to hold
but a blue inheritance
of sky.

José Luis Gutiérrez is a San Francisco-based poet. His work has appeared in Eratio, Scythe, Margie, Poemeleon, Cortland Review, Hawaii Pacific Review, Xavier Review, DMQ, Jetfuel, Caliban, Kestrel and in the anthologies Mutanabbi Streets Starts Here and 99 Poems for the 99 Percent and is forthcoming in Poetry Salzburg Review and Chiron Review, among others. His first poetry collection, A World Less Away, was published in 2016.