Southeast 24th by Ann Manov

“Somos una isla entre la sed”— “Mexico: vista aérea,” José Emiliano Pacheco*

What do you see
There, there from
The bed? The fronds that beat
Against the glass and stick
And unstick like silent
Salamanders.
Their green, rain-drenched, slick,
Cheap and resplendent.

The plaster, shrimp-pink,
Cracking, cleaving.
The garbage truck casts the lawn
Fiery like a valentine.
The construction site
Is mountainous, a glacial white.
The used-up gray of thunder
Clouds: a natural eraser.

What do you hear
There, there from
The bed? The wish-wash of the shower,
The whistle that plays between
The bursts of steam.
The tile tip-tapped by the leak.
The sound of strangers
As they start their cars,
As the alarm trills joyfully;
With a click, it stops.

*We are an island amid thirst.

From: http://www.elsewherelit.org/ann-manov

Date: 2019

By: Ann Manov (19??- )