SONG FOR EL CERRITO
I used to hate its working-class bungalows, grid planning,
the way my parents did for not making more money.
Now I want even the bad wood siding
books on modern Indian thought. Her tanpura
the endangered frogs in our gully.
On San Pablo, polyester collectibles, a folk-song store,
How did love lodge in these?
forgives even the traffic islands.
A stream smells rich under our house.
persimmons from neighbors’ yards.
how I keep falling in love here
Tonight it happened again:
At dusk, a lone scrub pine—
slid through clouds that were cinder-colored.
Tess Taylor’s chapbook, The Misremembered World, was selected by Eavan Boland for the Poetry Society of America’s 2003 New York Fellowship and published by the PSA. Her work appears in Harvard Review, Southwest Review, Painted Bride Quarterly, the Times Literary Supplement, Literary Imagination, Verse Daily, Guernica, and Memorious. Read more about her work at tess-taylor.com.