Luis Lopez-Maldonado — The End Of Summer

I wake to gunshots
In the distance
Among wooden
Rosaries and steel
Crosses, between
Blue sheets and
Striped curtains
A mirror stands
Before me like God
My messy sassy
Reflection is funny
And sexy, the room
Is flooded in pale
Oranges reds browns
Sands decorated with
Candles dolls degrees
A decapitated Buddha
Head: My pillow
Is wet. My muscles
Pulse pulse pulse
My mouth
Is parched.
The sun will
soon disappear
like how bullets
fade into the blue
or into black/brown
bodies: rosaries
tremble. Mirror