Sugar Cane ©

the youngest boy who had

just settled in a tenement on

the block sank his teeth on a

stalk of sugar cane.  he started

to chew pausing from time to 

time to throw around Spanish

words he carried from an old

ravaged world.  the scars on

the little boys back were signs

of resistance when forced to

work on a coffee farm though

far too many people never did

notice he occupied a place in

reality like them.  the shadows

that afternoon crawled around

the building steps like they too

wanted to take a bite of sugar

cane and listen to stories from

the land of mango, cashew and

coconut trees and churches 

where the past is painted with 

Saint’s faces for the penitent

and curious.  the youngest boy 

did smile more on the block his

mother loved and the people

who lived there improvised 

life on waking, all day long

and until they slept beneath

the stars. 

h. j. Recinos