On a Bus
It’s all shantytowns in Ciénaga.
Two youths sat outside of a pink houseThe Caribbean was in sight
A stone’s throw, a flap from
a yellow butterflies wing to
feel the unfettered Atlantic
winds.“Un dia, un dia.”
He said to her.
Her eyes were yellow like the bananas
that once saw a mass killing against
organized labor.The curls on her head
smiled.
And, for a moment, the salt in
the air felt like spoken clouds.
On a Bus
It’s all shantytowns in Ciénaga.
Two youths sat outside of a pink houseThe Caribbean was in sight
A stone’s throw, a flap from
a yellow butterflies wing to
feel the unfettered Atlantic
winds.“Un dia, un dia.”
He said to her.
Her eyes were yellow like the bananas
that once saw a mass killing against
organized labor.The curls on her head
smiled.
And, for a moment, the salt in
the air felt like spoken clouds.
Posted 8 months ago Notes
