FEB 4, 2026 - MAR 4, 2026

Ruby City is proud to highlight the winners of National Poetry Month San Antonio’s Ekphrastic Poetry Contest. This year, selected a work by artist Daniel Rios Rodriguez titled, Norma (2019), from his solo exhibition, Open This Wall, to inspire participating poets. The exhibition is on view through October 4, 2026 and can be see in Studio, located inside Chris Park. 

Join us as we celebrate these talented poets at the Ekphrastic Celebration Reading at the McNay Art Museum, on Thursday, April 23 in Chiego Hall, 6:00 p.m. The event is free to attend but requires pre-registration. 

Judges: Jim LaVilla Havelin, 2026 National Poetry Month coordinator, Eddie Vega, San Antonio Poet Laureate, and Linda Simone, poet, artist, educator, will select up to three poems per artwork for each category.

Enjoy the winning poems below. 

ADULT POETS (in no particular order)

That Girl Norma / Might Act Like Me 

Norma got shades to settle with herself. Take precaution. 

At every angle there’s somethin’ beautiful, but ain’t / no 

way she’s normal from the straight away look 

On ecstasy’s horizon of hilarity and the dusty line of risin’ fury– 

her eyeballs stay clear and got wings on ’em / a 

feral angel; that way she rolls ’em back with sweet glaze 

She does too much with each notch of the hour, tryin’ to lasso the sea, 

swingin’ with the right wrist, while / the 

left hand balances blushin’ cold champagne ’cuz she’s cool like that 

A confident tide, bubblin’ in spik’d, sparkle boots 

runnin’ along the kickin’ current, she jumps! leaps! and kicks back! / yes, 

born in NYC, but raised southern fried by the grease—she hollers now, in Texan 

That girl Norma gotta be a Gemini, double curves + two shots burning audacity, 

she’ll only swim with her clothes off / takes 

her sun with the salty blues, while the earth checks her vitality making sure/her/heart/stays/free 

Zenobia

The Prospect of Possibility 

From the start 

Norma’s heart 

was on pins and needles. 

What she needed was 

a glimpse of the sun. 

Norma had a heart like flames 

on the horizon. 

She rode waves 

waiting for her wings. 

Norma was torn between duty 

and destiny. 

She used to hope 

the sun wouldn’t shine 

until the clouds broke through 

to you. 

Luther Christian

Le Dedico Esto A Ti 

I Dedicate This to You 

Una ofrenda a la vida que se esconde within a painting: 

In Norma, whose molten, midnight oil se quema 

beneath copper bending, bruising light, I extend 

dos brazos made of rope, ebbing and flowing to hold vivid memories 

tide-bound by time-keeping limestone, pale and stubborn as bone. 

Esto no es arte, it is… a home… at sea… on a voyage. 

It is an envoy for immigrants’ hopes and dreams, an unwavering longing for belonging. 

Wood juts, needles prickle, lines take flight while shadows flicker. 

Color, cosmic; folktales, enshrined. Cuentos de ada or secrets divine. 

Thus is the beauty of smiling through pain, persisting past flames. 

Abre los ojos. You will see, 

we are all connected, juntos, you and me. 

Sayda Valentina Mitchell-Morales

YOUTH POETS (in no particular order)

The Mirror’s Frame 

I’ve built you a shrine out of river stones and sticks, 

A halo hammered thin with rusted tacks. 

A memento mori for the girl I’ll never be, 

I gild your shadow, it corrodes in me. 

In the girls bathroom, tiled and dim, 

Fluorescent light turns holy, thin. 

I kneel between the sinks and shame, 

trace your outline in the mirror’s frame. 

I stole your angel wings of copper thread, 

They do not lift, they drag instead. 

If hell wore lip gloss, it would shine like you. 

Pink lacquered mouth, venom sweet and true, 

Pleated skirt like folded flame, 

Pressed so neat it hides the blame. 

It’s holy how I rot for you. 

Celeste Simonsen 

Mother Nature 

She’s Earth, and she’s an ember, 

A waking dream found, 

in the heart of Southtown on sacred ground. 

A cactus crown, a thorny grace, 

The weight of the world in her abstract face. 

A rugged orbit of wood and wire, 

made from the nature admired. 

Not the starlet of silver screens, nor Hollywood’s sigh, 

but a landscape of spirit under a painted sky. 

The frame is not a boundary, but a bone, 

to display Mother Nature on her throne. 

Ginny Lenz