Pedro Mexia Poems

We meet the family at funerals.
We're never as transparent
as when we mourn
and tell measured anecdotes
...

You should not open closed
drawers: they were locked for a reason,
having now found
the key is a happenstance you can ignore.
...

I bought the ‘Ballad of the Sad Café' from her,
after having almost passed as a book
thief, touching books without looking
at them, while I circled from all
...

Lisbon is not Alexandria but then
Alexandria is only a metropolis
heightened and exalted in verse, its geometry,
its incisions of small despair.
...

In the improvised church hall,
disordered rows of chairs announced
a film on ‘the life of Christ'.
We were children, on holiday
...

En route, Hartford stiffens
and at the same time becomes lighter.
Fall ceases to be the fall.
The cockerels don't sing
...

This poem begins by comparing you
to the constellations,
with their magical names
and precise drawings,
...