Miraflores



Miraflores

It is the quietest of mornings
and her presence floats across this foreign land
in a performance,
effortlessly,
where hers is the main act
of a traveling troupe. She is popular amongst the
little, unknown islands of tropical beauty,
dropping indigenous tongues,
with hips wide, that sway and make way,
avoiding contact on entrance by the smallest of margins.
She is graceful.
Hers is a stage of placid waters,
of slight steps,
of an audience, both left and right,
and one that divides the continent of love,
and lovers.
It is the quietest of mornings
and I am in awe
in the land of blood and wilds and sweat.
Farewell, my love.