As I would free the white almond from the green husk
So would I strip your trappings off,
Beloved.
And fingering the smooth and polished kernel
I should see that in my hands glittered a gem beyond counting.
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What contemptible scoundrel has stolen the cork to my lunch?
by Leticia Hernández-LinaresEn el distrito de la Misión, las flores crecen del concreto
los niños saltan de los volcanes
revalsando de los callejones
las abuelas caminan con pan en las manos
y mi alma teje raíces sobre estas ...