An old man pulls the wrinkles of his dark face back./ I’m badder than you, / he tells me, handing me my change / for the rooster. My black & white / speckled rooster: My amulet, / like a necklace of herbs, I never told my mother about.

Photo credit:  Alison V. Cartwright

Like Grecian statues / they sit quietly on the first day / waiting intentionally for the / acknowledgment of existence. / Andrew the ex-high school running back, / where his A's equated to touchdowns. / The field his temporary escape  / from friends turned gang members, / college his final escape / from the irony of his city, / El Monte.

I cannot weep another child through / my throat is full. Eyes brimless. / Heart, / one drum’s-breath from the anvil, holding.