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Hope Unplumed by Maria Castro Domínguez

May 17, 2022
Reading Time: 1 Minutes

I lost you but found you. Hope. I hope you’re much better. I hope you know who I am. I hope I’ll be a better stranger, lover, daughter, friend. I hope. I hope to meet you where we broke the line, when you loosened your smile, a glass of red wine in your hands. I hope that our hope will be different. More of a tangible kind. Like. I hope to eat some home-cooked food. I hope. Not I hope this medication will work. Not I hope we will forget. Hope I want you as a neat orrery. A contra-empire presiding the world. Hope you take me to strange places. To a bottle half full. To a larder loaded with apples and bread. Hope you no longer have feathers. You’re Simic’s stone. Happy to be a stone. A flower in a store. A trickle of seeds scattered over our head. Hope there’s no cure for you. Hope there is a room for you yet. I want to find you always, around the corner, on the back of the chair, your yellow hat blowing against the morning breeze.

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Poetry  / The Weekly

Castro Domínguez, María
Maria Castro Dominguez is the author of 'A Face in The Crowd' her Erbacce–press winning collection and ‘Ten Truths from Wonderland’ (Hedgehog Poetry Press) a collaboration with Matt Duggan. Winner of the third prize in Brittle Star´s Poetry Competition 2018. Finalist in the 2019 Stephen A DiBiase Poetry contest NY and was highly commended in the Borderlines Poetry Competition 2020. Her poems have appeared in Apogee, The Long-Islander Huntington Journal NY, Popshot, PANK, Empty Mirror , The Chattahoochee Review and The Cortland Review.

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