"There remains a void where the heart is" J. Marti
Nesting green leaf tops, Cuban emeralds
Sip from fulsome urns. Green pinnate
Leaves bleed gold blossoms. Granite,
Mortar, marble mausoleums tier.
Pilings leeching pitch from piers;
Beneath ebbing angels languish
Flawless ivory nautili. Cayo Hueso.
Last led, lashed bare, los Martires de Cuba
Shape the buried ground below
The unfazed virgin's unmoving gaze.
Uprooted, the restless tamarind root
Reeling, wheeling gulls' unbalanced calls,
Sea salts pitting an old air sung
In anguish of forsaken language.
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