"Joy"
In Mexico City you buy it in the streets,
honeyed amaranth cakes with slivered almonds.
At the foot of the stairs, Rosa sells me two
for four pesos. I bite into the sticky
texture of the city, the one that looks
like an indigent worker, with wash clothes
on laundry lines, iron gates on every home,
trash floating in the streets. This is the place
with a mole under her lip and teeth
the color of saffron. This heaven,
viewed from my roof, opens itself like a giant
flytrap and swallows me down its throat.
Here, where the woman at the lavenderia
calls me in from the pouring rain.
I take out my dictionary: Alegria.
© 2007 Emusing
Follow this link to comment
|
|
