But She Wasn’t From My South

i’ve been trying to recall nostalgia, how
      hidden within deep memory they call it
saudade, its origin portugal, no i’ve never been
      lost to a lover, sadly misled, discarded,
all the ache inside me caged—yes i lie
      ‘tween the faded golden of yr paradoxical
sweet melancholy, eradicated, sadden
      & something vibrates this pulse, maybe
villancicos & cantigas are part of what
      i never knew lagrimas de saudade or fado
in general, the guitar i coveted twanged
      all night long, totally puzzled i am—are you
for real, about the past, i run futuristically
      to that shudder left in me, forever it is gone,
yr ghost of fatalistic moans circle my dome
      spinning, again & again i can’t lie but i am
shipwrecked, my portuguese love i drown deep
      into the mythology of you, i remain still.

-Randall Horton

Randall Horton is the recipient of the Gwendolyn Brooks Poetry Award, the Bea Gonzalez Poetry Award and most recently a National Endowment of the Arts Fellowship in Literature. Randall is a Cave Canem Fellow, a member of the Affrilachian Poets and a member of The Symphony: The House that Etheridge Built. Randall is Assistant Professor of English at the University of New Haven. An excerpt from his memoir titled Roxbury is published by Kattywompus Press. Triquarterly/Northwestern University Press is the publisher of his latest poetry collection Pitch Dark Anarchy..