I see that in a step a bloom is lost,
that in a tryst whole crops expire,
that movement is the measure through.
So I wonder about some long-lived lapse.

Not the grave that stands afar in silence,
wistful though certain of caring eyes:
to be sure is to live aslant.

Thus the bliss I choose depends on vagueness.
You sit and doze or perhaps You falter.

…

Israel A. Bonilla lives in Guadalajara, Jalisco. He is author of the micro-chapbook Landscapes (Ghost City Press, 2021) and the short story collection Sleep Decades (Malarkey Books, 2024). His work has appeared in Your Impossible Voice, Firmament, Able Muse, Minor Literature[s], new_sinews, Exacting Clam, and elsewhere.