Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

he touched my hand and for a cold moment I was a woman. . . lips trembling  with awe,  whispering lies

the dead  gather white shadows  from the past. . .  real marionettes  have no strings a certain kind  of Eden  holds me thrall. . .  your eyes are a green twine, the saddest rope

silence found a tongue to haunt me. . . sweat between the breasts of sloe-eyed strippers

no one believes in their own life anymore that's why they're exiled from my eyes, unable to find their own nakedness so fearfully pale, a lily bends to the breath of the wind. . . standing adrift in the ruins of sorrow

digging a grave in the sky. . .  a black boy  walks through a quiet  neighborhood