Dining Alone at the Hacienda
Gossip, the jays are gossiping.
Arising from nowhere, scratching
through grass, rustling
leaves, barking jargon
Arising from nowhere, scratching
through grass, rustling
leaves, barking jargon
from trees.
And swallows,
then no swallows, swirl
and swoop—artful arrows.
Now gone,
to dirt-daubed caves
beneath
adobe eaves.
Irrevocably, the moon—
filling the sky, out from behind
high conifers. Hello. Orange.
This fiery summer.
filling the sky, out from behind
high conifers. Hello. Orange.
This fiery summer.
Jargony too, the table across
from where I sit, three couples—
of negronis and Tito’s
Santa Lucia pinot, raw fish,
Japanese rice chips. They say thank you—
yet they don’t look up
to the faces
placing platters before them.
Ah, soften your visage, now,
in this purple sky, spraying beams
of vivid lambency—
on this small table
pondering.
Moon’s muzzy eyes
cast sideways, her mouth
oblique.
About the Author
Kimberly Nunes’s poems have been published in The Alembic, Blue Light Press Anthology, California Quarterly, Caveat Lector, El Portal, Evening Street Review, Mantis, Marin Poetry Center Anthology, The Madison Review, Sweet: A Literary Confection, WomenArts Quarterly Journal, and Adelaide Literary Magazine. She has attended numerous writing workshops and studied with Marie Howe, Sharon Olds, Ellen Bass, and many others. Kimberly sits on the board of Four Way Books in New York City. She received her MFA in poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. Her hobbies include bird-watching, gardening, swimming, golf, and tennis.