South of Richmond

Photo by author

An unneeded abundance
A glory only some ask
for the faint warmth of morning
sun on bricks
Bouncing back and illuminating the sleeping cactus,
the far-reaching monstera,
and, permit me,
my personal monsters.

Little devils,
too weak to break through the cloudiness
of an early wake
While the world starts shining,
breathing,
and the projects remain in slumber —
just a tiny bit more.

How did human love for flower begin?

When God encroached freedom
and, guilty, gave something back.
Or it may be true,
and we just want more.

More: I feel both lucky
and unlucky —
without offer of a neutral ground
or a sense of coping, of balance.

It is more
as if it were
too much
of the same thing.

I’m not sure anymore
that the birds and the bees
just know what they want —
as in what they need.

With uncertainty I explore
the possibility that
flying high
over this poor city’s sky
(no one’s sky)

they reflect on both
beauty and hunger,
boredom,
and a constant need for air.