DC STR #1 Adams House Suite
In a room facing chimneys
over the place Nancy Morejón rests
between sleeps lining free lines
she whispers to hearing DC:
Obsidiana, Un Gato Pequeño A Mi Puerta,
Vilma en Junio.
Morning is birdsong
in an old Spanish town.
Though the chief
in his acquired misery
echoes Kenya until he breathes
life into malady, or at least compels
us to believe so, she sleeps with
Africa, Canton, and other points slavery
turn Cuban in her bone breath
bringing love, embrace, freedom from
whatever holds the rest of us in weight.
The lifting is simple, yet
without it how sad we all be.
Embargo=fear
Yet here she is!
Sugaring our boughs before we break.
No comments:
Post a Comment