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Sometimes
When I am loose and free She sneaks up on me Behind a guava bush Springs forth and sways Like a freshly loose spring Sometimes When I am feeling blue And the sickness spreads like algae blooms She glides toward me Dips her fingers in an inkwell Infuses lavender and aquamarine Sometimes When the elements are roused And sheets of rain pound the earth And mangroves moan and sway Like flutes and tambourines That’s when she arrives Filling my mouth with Fine sands of a desert storm Filling my ears with Song of a nightingale Filling my belly with Voice of an ancient woman Copper skin crinkling with laughter Blinding and white like a sun That’s when she arrives Extends and guides With delicate hands Sits me down, gently In front of a dancing fire Crackling branches Release the sweet Burning smell of mesquite, Incense, and ground maiz |
But when I stare Stone faced at the screen Immobilized and stiff Caught in the hurricane’s Eye of Medusa’s glare When my orbs are like fish When not even Dali’s crutches Can hold my lids in place When I scramble in search of the Grinds to deal with the grind When the hourglass breaks And desert storms turn To quicksand And fine white particles Blind and burn That’s when she departs In dramatic fashion Like a power outage —one minute she’s here, Next minute she’s gone— And I can hear nothing But the early morning Cries of sirens and alarms --Victoria Bañales © Copyright Victoria Bañales |
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