Deidad de la estrella de la mañana,
a contrapuntal for Ross and Alexia
The sound of your guardian angel falling
means you’ve been saved
from tragedy. We thank
our lucky stars, take them out with the trash.
On pick-up day, we spend time
selecting another guardian we sharpen our knives
A cutler calls from the street, a tropical bird call
Filador! Filador!
we hear him so close that he must be
behind the door. your neighbor calls
the neighbor sent him straight to you we ignore,
we let him shout,
laugh at his sharp desperation,
at our desires blunted by brokenness,
a stamping of crows’ feet we laugh,
we laugh, as we hammer
your new guardian angel to the wall.
About the Author
Miriam Calleja is an award-winning Maltese bilingual freelance poet, nonfiction/fiction writer, workshop leader, and translator. She is the author of three poetry collections, two chapbooks, and several collaborative works. Her poetry has been published in anthologies and in translation worldwide. She has been Highly Commended for a translated poem by the Stephen Spender Trust. Her latest chapbook is titled Come Closer, I Don’t Mind the Silence (BottleCap Press, 2023). Her essays and poems have appeared in platform review, Odyssey, Taos Journal, Tupelo Quarterly, Modern Poetry in Translation, humana obscura, and elsewhere. Miriam lives in Birmingham, Alabama. Read more on miriamcalleja.com.