|Apr/May 2003 • Poetry|
Cool Grass Sigh
We once had eyes like open palms,
before our skulls hardened and fists clenched.
We have walked with broken dogs, nipples scraping
dirty streets. We have heard a crackling breath,
dried chiles shaken, a toothless woman cursing the gods.
We have watched smoke rise, split and curl, sway and fall;
our cries lost in rumbling engines, exhaust and gasoline.
Yet we touch our tender bellies and say yes,
it is worth it, to be soft and hard, to open and close.