…next to the bin eyes half open see
passing eyes cringe
staring through the mirror
small light calls to your leg muscles
dumb as posts
Where are you?
Who are you? How were you led
here while your canoe noses
through the surface
Smiling Moon sits in front
electrifies the water as
if burning a path for your
three unborn
Where are you? How far back was
your lantern hung? Or how far
down the trail again
sliding like a canoe alone
for this auspicious dawn?
Libros Libertad 