Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

skylark on a rose branch— petals descend in whispers

dressed this is the day the blind view the moon the night we bite on silk peach petals and walk hand in hand into the fire with the aroma of coffee zigzagging   around our noses like fine art this is the day of the catamaran sailing on open sea while we laugh at the wind fearless of consequence the first day we cover our bodies with clothes

rivers flood… taking refuge in my bed

ríos se desbordan pero siguen las rutinas hilo de luna

hollowed gourd…  the scent of roses  lingers 

the paper blades go back a forth between sisters... each adds a line in their secret language on Snow Flower's fan

Snow Flower’s fan the secret language of love between old-sames