Una fila de calacas
Las ventanas deseirtas
Los ojos de los que se an ido
La boca decrépita

Sin voz

Intercambian simbolos por
plastico,imaginan dinastias
generationes al por mayoreo
pagan con dolares

se sopla sobre la tierra
de las manos secas, las manos rotas, vacias
pero con esparanza

Se van para regresar
Trabajan para descansar
Donde estan vivendo? Sus casas
estan llenas de gallinas

Chicken Houses

A row of skulls
deserted windows
sockets of the departed
decrepit mouths

without voice

They trade symbols for
plastic, imagine dynasties
wholesale generations
pay with dollars

it blows over the land
of dry hands, broken
hands, empty
but for hope

They leave to come back
They work to rest
Where are they living? Their houses
full of chickens

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer

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

About vsvevg

Hello, I'm Abby Smith. I started this blog in 2010 to write about the pursuit of a self-sustainable life in rural Mexico. In 2015, my then-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. In 2022, with mad butchery and cheese-making skills under my belt, I started a sustainable food systems consulting business. Happily, I also have more time for my first love-- writing about food and the complexities of the simple life.

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