Anna

In Memoriam

She lives near the Yucatán Peninsula,

Between the Caribbean and Gulf of Mexico,

She’s had many lovers,

She laughs often,

red carnations in her hair,

She says Latin men know nothing about love,

Oh, the myths we weave,

She dances with the apparitions of Cortez,

She eats plantains,

Red beans and rice,

She hears the rhythm of drums,

Across space, time,

She runs her hands across white, cold limestone,

Prickly, Aloe plants,

Succulents,

ancient Mayan ruins.

She walks barefoot,

emerald moss,

Eyes green with specks of

Oxidized copper,

Her hair brassy red,

From a box,

She smokes Cuban cigars,

She spends nights listening to Arturo Sandoval

At a local club,

Gives pesos

to street musicians,

She dances barefoot

In her kitchen,

Dirt floors,

She rides in pickup trucks,

hitchhikes for miles,

She knows where the prostitutes

Live by the canvas curtains hang over

Carports,

Her ebony eyes,

She waits for no ones permission,

She longs to grow old,

With a dog named Bob.