Morning drive, February 2019

Felt some kind of way
this morning
driving to work with the heater on,
watching amid sparse traffic
the sun sparkle through oak trees
like glitter

The rest was cold, fog

Can’t remember the last minutes
before I pulled into my usual parking spot
beside a brown pickup truck—
I have zero recollection

But the feeling I had before then?
Wish I had the words,
so I’ll just put it this way:

Black hole divine
like everything was nothing
nothing everything
heaven and earth converged
in the quiet hum between breath and heartbeat that was
silence

Alex Z Salinas lives in San Antonio, Texas. His short fiction, poetry, and op-eds have appeared in various print and electronic publications. He is the author of a collection of poetry, WARBLES. He holds an MA in English Literature and Language from St. Mary’s University and serves as poetry editor of the San Antonio Review.