Two Poems by Mike Meraz

ONLY A WRITER

a girl, Italian, big hips,
tattooed legs, comes in
my store every week
to buy groceries.

I’ve been meaning to talk
to her but all I get out is:

“can I help you?”

and

“uh, excuse me…”

and all I can get out of her
is:

“no…”

and

“mhmm…”

though our conversations are short,
I feel we have something going on,
a little pitter patter floods my heart
every time I see her.

I must think of something
smooth to say to her,
something clever,

like in one of my poems
where a light shines
at the end
and a smile enters
the heart.



You Are Beautiful, Don’t Let Anyone Tell You Different
.
your eyes write books.
your mouth plays songs.
your body is an orchestra.

you are not one
that needs to create.
you are a creation.

be still
and wondrous.