Charles Haddox

Rainstorm and Angel Over the Rio Grande

 

Moon mask,
a nephrite jellyfish
after the mist’s erasure,
white and silver vestments;
Raphael’s healing fish.
Light without form.

Cave house, cliff
frescoed by the cataracts
upholding contoured clouds.
Cane and red adobe
conceal autumnal night.
Ceiling of the sky.

Restless spadefoot toads,
newly resurrected,
inhabit transitory seas.
Bindweed releases efflorescent sweets
for tiny insect feet
and fretworks of frantic wings.

Water and grass,
the season’s funeral cortege;
while above, a blurred opal,
a rustic angel’s face,
adorns the canopied thunder
and sultry monsoon breeze.

Accompanied by maize and diasporas,
the river’s outstretched angel
ordains irregular cycles for
a melon’s calloused wares,
the dances and acequias,
the lavish living yields.

Charles Haddox lives in El Paso, Texas, on the U.S.-Mexico border, and has family roots in both countries. His poetry has appeared in a number of journals including Birdcoat Quarterly, Infrarrealista Review, and Vita Poetica. charleshaddox.wordpress.com