On My Own
Will there be a change
in your voice next winter?
—I prefer to shelter it with rum,
walk through the monkey-puzzles
in the Andes. Their leaves are as thick
and tough as my hands, scale-like
with sharp edges, heaving like my heart.
The winds coming from the Pacific
fan out my reptilian branches. Black-faced
Ibis fly overhead. At least I know
they will return next spring.
© Sergio A. Ortiz, April 28, 2010
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