by Gene Novogrodsky
But five, she, the Mexican-American
Girl with round dark face and Asiatic
Eyes, Bering Strait, and
Thousands of years and feet,
You, little girl, will never be on
Mexican TV,
You who marched into history
And wait for your piece ….

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by Gene Novogrodsky

Her nightgown, off,
Her taste,
Her shirt, off yesterday,
Her sweat, perfume traces.
Two men in the big store’s white glare,
Reading fresh ads, slowly.
Two men in the convenience store,
Heads visible through dirty plate
Glass, white glare.
Gown, shirt, void.
I’m in the big store,
Killing the morning,
I’m in the convenience store,
Killing the morning,
I’m coughing and bending in an apartment [...]

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