TOP OF THE MORNING


Gun fire in the morning
In between dreams
Between the opening of the eye

Music at daybreak
Giving instructions
With its rhythms
With the mixing of words
One above the other

The smaller the profile
The better
So I sleep some more
Dreaming with the prone position

Outside
The girl that washed
Her hands
Is crying

There’s shouting
Bilingual cursing
Open wounds

Pained for those seized
The triumphant walk euphorically
Stepping on as much ground
As they can

Women wailed
For those on the back
Of the pick up truck