Papi And The Rain

its raining
and you’ve flung
all windows
and doors open

there is a song
dusty and old
like the Polaroid’s
Mami has stuffed
into albums
I pull out
Now

there are smiles
wider
than I have ever seen

you and her at the beach
someone’s birthday
in a crammed hallway

then there’s me
a tiny bundle
who seems
to always be crying

Corazon, you
should have been born
when it was raining
you tell me
you could have been
a teardrop
rushing
nowhere but the end

there is lightening
and you’re almost laughing
in delight
and I get the urge to write you like this
so happy
we almost forget
where we are
and how sick you’ve been
instead
its…

invierno
in El Salvador
and the sky
is weeping with joy
the tree branches so heavy
they too
drop creatures
unto the floor

mangos
hocotes
nances
oranges

the smell of wet dirt
crawling into our nostrils
the mud
as red and rich
as your skin

the dusty song
a little softer
a little further

…and
Im writing
It this way

so much better
so much nicer
another poem
for you
Papito.