—para doña Elva … if you can hear these words …
I. Barefoot a woman walks south down the black highway a blue shirt tied at her waist hiding her bare hips She crosses her arms across her bare large, sagging breasts her eyes looking down just walking, walking Her sun-toasted skin the color of the eastern hills twisted from the earth’s depths, sparsely covered with thorny brush Above those heights circle frigate birds flying inland from the deep-blue sea on the other side of the highway, ebbing, flowing upon sand the color of her sun-toasted skin II. Quarter moon passes to new & this afternoon I see that woman bewitched by her husband’s lover walking northward up that black highway bare-breasted, bare-bottomed barefoot, sun-toasted walking, just walking …
