words
graffiti by Limpo
SKATING THE SKY Downtown Toronto - King and University, 1982. Eyes squint past the summer’s mid-morning sun; the disco ball to my roller-skating role-play. My pigtails hold tight, mamá always wants me looking right, but my fingers are lazy, sliding along two matching plastic barrettes: *violet roller skates* glittering like the soft underbelly of the rainbow trout, (part of a lesson on Canada’s fresh water fish in social studies class that day). I make them dance and twinkle on top of the cabbie’s rear seat, stuck in rush hour gridlock, while my papá sighs, and mamá kisses her teeth in dead heat. Me, stuck sitting between them, sucking on beads of sweat on my upper lip, feeding the fantasy of twirling lights and swirling disco balls rushing in perfect universal pattern… And me, pigtails holding tight, in violet roller skates, skate away down the busy streets of downtown Toronto eyes squinting past the summer’s mid-morning sun, while everyone else is stuck in gridlock. HER APPLE TREE Your tree span seemed no taller or shorter than the rest of the sun bleached trees that surround you. But I was wrong. Below the earth your roots ran deep and reached purposefully into the magma core: a breathing ball of iron, feeding an inner fire. So, I am content to climb you, slide over one of your sturdy branches, lace my fingers into the worn knots of your ageless hands, press my face against your feathery foliage, inhale deeply, and finally know sleep. LA ISLA DE PROVIDENCIA Swept fish-lines - dusk draws boats home. Fishing at night in case of empty nets. Glinting smiles spread across, spaces of sand. So silent even the birds hold their tongues, tracing synchronous sweeps across the sky, while the crabs march an angry tune downhill and shiny lizards sneak into the underbush. Solemn faces cover curiosity. Children giggle and gossip in Broken English, as the fortuneteller waves drum out their next prediction - more rain Sea-life drawings etched with driftwood on sand: a request for sun to come. Snapper for dinner, red pepper and garlic swim in orange with a little coconut to boot- smells, linger, intermingle with the salt on our skin. All this, while the Providential people keep the fire burning on the beach. The boats can rest for the night. LET’S DANCE? Let the rose slip, so I can lick it up off the floor. Let the rose slide, so I can grind my gleaming gums against the thorns. Let me really earn your trust.
site content © mónica rosas 2011
soundtrackattack courtesy of Nujubes
- A day by Atmosphere Supreme
 
soundtrackattack
take 2!
 
“ENOUGH” Spoken Word soundbite! Play over soundtrack attack take 2, for double fun.
MEDITATIONS
The gong strikes.
A wave of cloud
rides the echo.
Time for tea.
 
*
 
Rustling skirt,
steps taken
on a dusty path
- gone by night’s rainfall.
 
*
 
Fat, slow
and unapologetic
the slugs make an appearance
after the rain,
in all their glistening glory.
 
*
 
Pesky caterpillar on my leg,
why can’t I imagine
the butterfly
you will one day become?
 
*
 
A cluster of wild mushrooms
grow through a landscape of wood chips
- A family in a strange land.
 
*
 
Morning rays
break through
the wood’s mist,
my tired body,
with new inspiration.