Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Rafi Lev

9th Street Mercado

The sarape wrapped woman
whines tamales
in response to
man’s pleas

doting nonnas
offer biscotti to
wide eyed ninos

Sal shrieks
Non Toche
as produce mavens
sniff and jab

Vendors trade barbs
all warming their hands
over burning cans

wafts of stoked charcoal
and strong coffee compete

Muffled mariachis seep
from a brown young man’s
suped up truck

The Asian family smiles
quietly clipping grapes

A torn tortilla
straddles the border
between sidewalk
and street


Voice of the Turtle

These doors
of Cordoba

He needs no map
just a hint of
the street song
by the sweeping gypsy

A lullaby
the voice of the turtle
upon its return

He strains to regain his way
slender streets
vanishing walls

Torquemada still plots
beneath the bridge

Samir’s enshallah ordains him

He clutches a jumbled address
on a crumpled scrap
matching crooked numbers
on a moldy frame

A rusted key struggles
in his drunken grasp

Metal meets metal

Five hundred years


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