Lisa Dominguez Abraham
Good Intentions
i promised myself a better self
than i could make & i will not forgive
—“After Vallejo” by A.B. Spellman
At 5:00 a.m. Arthur Sze must be rising, brewing green tea,
then beginning to type his dream of mule deer
grazing the chaparral and also wind turbines
slicing songbirds into puffs of feathers.
Farther west I page through Sight Lines,
grateful for insomnia and San Francisco’s
light-polluted sky, how they cocoon me
in a pre-dawn buzz where I can cycle through
my own intentions. Many turned out well,
but failures haunt me: the apricot tree I planted,
nurtured, and fed, gathering its honeyed fruit
until the branches began to split, oozing sap.
The fault was mine. I’d tended it the way
I’d been taught, pruning in its dormant season,
the right season for every stone-fruit tree
except the apricot. I learned too late and
sadly, I’m not alone. Even at this hour
my living room hums with the sound of
commute traffic just over the hill, bottle-necked
before the San Rafael Bridge
as gardeners and house cleaners idle
in pickups and vans, spewing exhaust into
their own neighborhoods as they inch toward
the rich side of the bay. Their commute
was quicker before road work
that left just two car lanes, saving
the third for bicycles. To be fair,
an occasional cyclist does pedal by
in his dedicated lane, believing
that with each muscled downstroke
he’s helping the collective, his eyes watering
in the chill wind, droplets feathering in his wake.
Lisa Dominguez Abraham’s Mata Hari Blows a Kiss won the Swan Scythe Chapbook Contest, and her book Coyote Logic was published by Blue Oak Press. More of her work has appeared in journals such as Puerto del Sol and The Southern Review, and, most recently in Elysium Review. She is grateful to live in Richmond, California near her large, extended family.

