We Have No Flowers

I woke up in a pink haze —
Stoppered brain and marrow sockets —

An old man braying:
Watch for fish — sharks!

I dreamt of waves roiled
On the sidewalks of my hometown,

The corners of my body worn
Down by fascist emery sticks,

My consciousness battered —
Unkempt, wandering, open-mouthed slobbering.

Then a moment of clarity:
Without the rain —

We have no flowers.

What I’m Reading:

Useless to look north and
useless to look south.

The cracked sky copies
the cracked earth.

Pressure on the tree contaminates
a forest beyond sight.

— Elvira Hernández / “Cross-Armed”