Wednesday, June 25, 2014

La Cucaracha

No one stirred, not
even the waiter serving lunch.
not even two tourists
under an umbrella, or
the bronze statue in the square.

The girls under the
trees, intent on listening.
didn't speak or see
the little black bug.
Even a dog lifted his leg.

The woman in the
cowboy shirt, smoking, didn't
look, nor two policemen
with their shirt tails out
pounding the cobbled streets.

Bent, fussy pigeons
circled around. No one screamed
or squirmed. All missed cockroach,
head down, black wings glistening,
cleaning crumbs from stone.



Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
Published by Sunline Press, WA

The Joyous Lake

Par écrit

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