Mosquito Quarantine

March 30, 2018

León, Nicaragua.DSC_2254.jpg

Enmeshed in a mosquito quarantine,
The fan circles.
The honeycomb bars
Hide dusty squat streets
Of dusty squat houses
Painted in faded colours of the revolution:
“It’s the same as it was before.”

Left or right or torture or pain
Shown in childlike drawings
On her empassioned face;
Left or right
Are not important
When the desire for power is so strong.

A clatter of chairlegs on concrete,
Chattering lips and chastised tongues:
Art on facades martyr the fallen –
What lies beyond the facade?
We are falling.

All of us?
The fan circles.

Swilling around her mouth
Are stories of subordination –
Nothing changes;
It is impossible;
Nothing has ever changed…
The deadbeat resignation of the post revolutionary rings throughout these poverty stricken streets as the fan circles.

The fan circles.

We lie in our enclaves of lace
Protected by power of money and birth and I didn’t choose to be born here and yet I was and here I am and here she is.

Encircled by a lace freedom which separates me and keeps me safe:

Mosquito quarantine.

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