By: Lynne Sueoka
I come from a place
Where lychee tree shade blooms
Against white stone walls
And dust settles like lazy butterflies
upon tables and windowsills
Cane trucks rumble across the roadway
Their cargo skinny stalks, skeletons,
Rattling in dull yellow cages.
My cats sleep--limp, furry shapes
soft, warm, vibrating with the hum
of secret cat songs,
Dreaming of brittle roach skeletons and
the air is damp and heavy.
Smoke from a neighbor's trash fire
Lingers in the air,
Sweet with wood scent,
Acrid with chemicals.
This is home.
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