The Lovers / by Lorrena Magaña


I often wonder when it was that you knew—
I wore that red coat that I bought for 25 cents at that shop on Broadway
You told me I was too pretty to be in vintage—
Was it then?

We walked everywhere, sometimes twice
I secretly think you faked not knowing how to get back
So you could spend extra moments with me
You kissed me at the columns
It was magical

We watched the number 10 bus from my bedroom
And held my hand
Made love all night
You read me Neruda in Spanish
and held my hand

Days turned into weeks and then
One day you came to me in the laundry room
You came to me like a beggar
I knew, you know
I knew about her and the concert
You always had a thing for Costello

We said things, awful things
I didn’t cry, I was relieved
I always hated Costello,
And the way you smoked your cigarettes

Weeks turned into months
I wore that coat
Walked the streets without you
Watched the Number 10 bus from my bedroom
Read Neruda in English
The phone rang

I can still see your face in my laundry room

At the columns
The Number 10 bus
My red coat
Your hospital bed

They took you off at midnight
It was raining
I read you Neruda in Spanish
Held your hand
Played Costello
Put on my red coat
Walked twice around the city
Trying to remember you


Writer Lorrena Magaña began her career at an early age. She hold a B.F.A. in theater and a minor in creative writing from Cornish College of the Arts. While at Cornish she wrote several poems, short stories and a collection of plays. Her writing style is influenced by the works of Neruda, Sexton and Bishop. Her poem "The Lovers" is an ode to love, loss and acceptance.