Two Months After Hurricane Maria by Sergio A. Ortiz

1.
And the world disagreed with its own blood.
The wind blew away sanity and today
we pull against the riptide.

Time and space, wooden shacks, flew
in an unknown direction and love lied
on the image of a moon tired of unfaithful
lovers.

2.
Night undressed, and all could see
her nakedness. She stopped weeping
and wailing over lost paths to rescue
what was left of her pride, seaports, airspace,
enslaved hearts, and raised fist
without knowing the shackles were so heavy
that even her silence had toppled.

3.
If I were to expand to the point of bursting
into thousands of pieces, if my suffering
should ever reach that level
do not sanction my heart or my body
do not let me escape into nothingness
like an insignificant hot gas.

4.
Toilet paper or disposable towels…
insensitive son of a bitch— do we really need
to kiss your presidential ass?

can we afford another one hundred and nineteen
years of insults, grave diggings,
war deaths and stupidity?

 

 

Sergio A. Ortiz (Califragile Feature Poet, September, 2017) is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a six-time Best of the Web nominee, and 2016/17 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Valparaiso Poetry Review, Loch Raven Review, Drunk Monkeys, Algebra Of Owls, Free State Review, and The Paragon Journal. His chapbook, An Animal Resembling Desire, will be published by Finishing Line Press. He is currently working on his first full-length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.

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