Await the verse…no longer!
The darkness is thick and my backpack weighs upon my exhaustion
we roll out of town filling the rickety canopy truck until we are smothered in place
early morning wind rips through us
shredding the darkness into the first blaze.
there is a fire on the horizon,
one of promise and strength,
a fury that streaks the sky in majestic flames
the landscape enveloped in fog
misting grasslands and giant Sabal palms
as the Escambray mountains emerge
like guerrilla fighters
striking us out of nowhere baring its rocky teeth at empire
out of a land shrouded in resilience
out of a country bursting with beauty
out of all the contradiction and suffering it glistens bravely
As published in Women and Environments Magazine:
seven years auxiliary
so you’re my union brother/ and i don’t wear tight jeans for you/ Or look at you/ because i know you’re/glaring at me/like i’m a piece of/something /that needs gravy
and I work right inside there/ yeah, I shouldn’t complain cuz/I pay dues now/but my bicep flinches/when/i can’t do it/with just/ 12% in lieu/ who do I benefit?
and I see right through you/peripherally/all morning/through the glass/of/ lower wages/ because there’s no way/my toiling/compares/ to masculinities/mapped/across pay scales/and leaves/one line inside collective agreements/silently shelving/seven years/auxiliary
Amanda/ changed her name/when she landed/immigrant/this morning/to make your/Creamy, White/Americano/culture/ is beginning to make her sick/ of/ 4am mornings to be on time/for/always special order/everyday
he/sits perched atop the fortress/never knowing quite what/ the ground looks like/hard cement/glued to stolen land/ keeps her running/from/ her homeland /indebted to/fortresses