by Jennifer Lawson-Perez
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
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A poem about the flooding in Central America during the rains
Ayyyy! Inhale the lluvial scent; falling waters in Morozan.
Mildew stained walls; long legged tables
in standing water. Precious memories stacked
like gifts to the Gods in one last moment of desperation.
Pant legs rolled, hems dripping; hairy legged women
baskets balanced on long sable hair. Wading
flooded streets still selling loaves of bread. I think of Jesus
sip my wine; break my bread; stretch on my dry floors
watching weather reports for los campesinos.
Tormenta, tormenta! Bridge washes away...
Silt covered crops lie flat in fields; plastered hair strands
on damp skin; splish splash, splish splash!
Children slap surfaces of currents rushing
over pavement; as a plastic bag of garbage drifts by.
Los damnificados huddle on thin mattresses
faces drooping; hopes withered; tired.
Splish splash, splish splash; ropes drop from metal birds in the sky --
a raging current, a roof top, a family.
Until the sun returns and the waters subside.