Why I Don’t Speak Spanish

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Mexico does not inspire
The poetry in me
I imagined
It laughs at my advances
It is insistent
Use my language, not the tongue
cut from conquerors,(like the feet of our gods)

It purrs in the garbage
and flowers, upon burros
snapping Chiclets
whimpers among the starving
dogs, patrolling ruins
catches on razor wire,
bangs, beds down in mattress
skeleton houses,
barks graffiti, hacks up wood smoke,
hisses on comals
stews in cazelas

Holds it tongue

Under aprons it
(I pray)
lays in wait

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer

This entry was posted in living in Mexico, Mexico, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , by vsvevg. Bookmark the permalink.

About vsvevg

Hello, I'm Abby Smith. I started this blog to write about the pursuit of a self-sustainable life in rural Mexico. Then my husband and I moved to Nicaragua, where we created a successful farm-to-table and in-house charcuterie program for a high-end beach resort. With mad butchery and cheese-making skills under my belt, I now return to my first love: writing, as a freelance food and travel writer.

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