by Marguerite Bouvard
Ana, I have learned to see
the mountain rising behind
you bearing the scars
of your ruined city, Havana, the sun-struck
panes of your grandmother’s window,
staining her hair with their reds Continue reading
by Marguerite Bouvard
Ana, I have learned to see
the mountain rising behind
you bearing the scars
of your ruined city, Havana, the sun-struck
panes of your grandmother’s window,
staining her hair with their reds Continue reading
Filed under Poetry