Sunday, February 24, 2013

Trujillo

Pink centimeters of corn

the kinds that are too tough

you chose them in the market

Parakeet hanging up beside the linen

laundry line, low hanging electricity

My feet often burn when I sleep

Corn, feed the grey pieces to the parakeet

Pull a linen drape across her cage

Is it a pity that she does not speak?

The market: it is a cool day

for you to walk cane-less

one heel thicker than the other

You ask me to steady you

as we climb the ruin

you excavated as a child

before they brought electricity

washing machines

Take two rocks between your fingers

bend with your strong knee

to touch my burning feet

Kernels of corn -- I know you

Pull back the drapes

parakeet, one heel thick

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