La historia de los ángeles by Victor David Sandiego
We are made of reeds and pull
the air into our lungs through them; we descend
from a long line of lamps with wicks and oil
that, from the alcoves,
illuminate the corridors between worlds.
Our habitat is filled:
with rivers, meadows, mountains, horses, antelope, and trees.
Juniper child on his knees guards a beetle in the dust.
Grandmother plants flowers and mud
crawls over our days…