Three Poems – Daniel Riddle Rodriguez

Summer Love

It’s June.
We meet cute.
She wears an ascot 
and cat frames.  I wear
my heart on my arm 
and a chip on my shoulder.
She feels the gun in its holster.
She wants to know why
opposites attract.  In the beginning
everything mingles, 
nothing is halved.
Now, I don’t know
what love is, but it’s
blind, so cannot possibly find me.
She’s on the run from another man
she’d gunned down, boyfriend number, 
Who’s really keeping count?
We lie low at my house to
spend a weekend reading the Greek.
Of all the gods, I love Aries best;
of all the men, the Myrmidons.
She’s loves the muse
who conjures the conflict: 
the thousand ships,
the face that launches them.
We close our eyes and black
raiders throw stones at gods
older than the god she prays to.
(And Mashallah, she prays too.)
Every Friday night all praises due.