Oooooppppsss My Tea

Date: 2003-07-21 06:03 am (UTC)
Listening to your voice captured me so deeply I completely over steeped my morning tea . . . hmmmm, seems like a line a Puerto Rican living in the Midwest shouldn't say. Ohhhh, the confusions of multidimensional living!

You should have read the poem. That would have been fine fun. As an enticement or an offer of barter here's one of my own.


Nights Near El Yunque

Those nights were mosquito nets,
mat and bed, and netting
draped around,
pooling out a thin veil of white.
I'd lie awake and listen
to the pipe twitter of Coqui,
the gossip of leaves,
the murmur of Sugar Cane.
Then sleep in the clear
nights of the whole moon
(when the earth steps aside)
or the dim nights of the part moon
(when the earth intrudes).
Part way through I'd wake
to the soft pelting
of rain feeding the ground.
In that damp air, cradled by all the world,
I'd consider:
my parents curled tight in their high bed,
brother an arms length away,
sister sheet covered in our abrupt hall.
And sleep again
in the rain, in the wind, in the night.
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