lives and civilizations change depending on actions across
dust, grit and probably asbestos fanged
with wings the size of a small plane
I hoped was a very innocent voice screaming
At seventeen, in a freshly-pressed cotton dress,
you rode your bicycle and frolicked in the fields,
tasted paella and chorizo for the first time,
learned tango steps with your Spanish lover.
The photos I took of you never came out.
What happened was this.
It was the Black and Puerto Rican Caucus,
1983, ’84, or maybe even ’85, I don’t remember,
I’ll have to check the scrapbook, but you were
The Keynote speaker that year and I was just
So nervous that you were going to be there
Walking,
here you come
walking
walking in groups of
ten,
a hundred,
thousands,
ten thousand
some of you
are walking on
two legs, no thicker than a man’s finger
or one leg supported by branches