Dark Lady Poetry - Sergio Ortiz




Sergio Ortiz






Nightmares, Secrets, and Museums



Think of me as Dionysus,

home, resting with a fetus in my left leg.

Think of me as lasting less than a candle

or a rock. This road we travel is a puff,

a shake, an unexpected vibration

on earth’s surface. It does not fancy us here.

We barely have enough time to learn

a few lessons when we’re gone. Grapes

shrivel, leaves fade back

to their sepia dwellings.

Think of me as a wordless translation

of a poem dwelling in the silent space

all over this museum, like secrets

in a secret language.





The Sides of a Mirror



There is no other choice

than to remain secure in the cargo hold

for what is stored in lower spaces

of the ships we navigate is nothing

other than the individual parts

of what is ready to become

the deconstruction of our anatomical filth.

Heart and lung machines rot side by side

sexual strings.  This rubbish causes parsnip

infection, a corrupt bitterness in our poisonous

watercourse. This is what we gain

from a peep.  This, the sum

of what we see

before a fuller glimpse.








the petal moored to a glace,

as if its mysterious shape

opened out of its body to lean

against the smile of old drifter waiting

for some kind of absolution

upon the church’s steps.

The tourist does not move, his eyes

inspect his own tanned

shoulders, then he notices

a plastic bag to the right

ofthe unassisted,

a well kept treasure,

the intimacy of a home,

with suspicion.









Ortiz has a B.A. in English literature from Inter-American University, and a M.A. in philosophy from World University. His poetry has appeared in over 200 online and print journals He has been recently published, or his poems are forthcoming in: The Battered Suitcase, Zygote in my Coffee, Right Hand Pointing, Poui: Cave Hill Journal of Creative Writing, Writers’ Bloc and Temenos: Central Michigan University’s Literary Journal. Flutter Press published his chapbook, At the Tail End of Dusk (2009).