BUENOS AIRES

The train takes us from our families
and homes. The baby you once cared for
will one day spit on you.

You dream of peace,
You dream of judgment—
a revolution without artillery.
I can make it across the river
if I swim.

(May 27, 2010)

WE DIG FOR BONES

We dig for bones in a shallow grave,
but treasures slowly fade away.
I can still feel you. But will there be clear water
on the day of judgment, a break
from the past?
This is not goodbye,
but just where we go.

(May 15, 2010)

CHRISTINE

I live across from the park,
it’s a new place to live.
But the helicopter flies overhead,
it reminds us of who we are.

These eucalyptus trees are here
for us to hide behind, they take
the fear away. I won’t be forgiven again—
my time is up.

(May 15, 2010)