#116 milagro #10 by Richard Vargas

mountain fires
and strong winds
send smoke our way
eyes burn and a breath

becomes a gasp for air as
lungs turn into
flip-flopping goldfish
taken from their bowl
and dropped on a
hot sidewalk

at night
sliver of new moon
filtered through haze
is dark orange
the color of chile

ripening in the fields
just before it turns
blood red

chile moon
deadly moon
taking my breath away

the price i pay
to be smothered with
your beauty

Richard Vargas was born in L.A. and has two books of poetry published; McLife, 2005, and American Jesus, 2007. Vargas earned his MFA from UNM and was awarded the 2011 Hispanic Writers Award from the Taos Summer Writers Conference. He resides in Albuquerque, where he edits/publishes The Más Tequila Review.


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