Poetry

Downtown surrounded by orange cranes diligently building walls. Work and life will reside here, done within the year. Eight monoliths of progress. Walls….walls… do we need another separating child from mother? Man from father?   Ms. S, the Salvadorian Mona Lisa, with her mysterious smile. Since five, her big brown eyes blind with vision, long-distant voices her only tie to family. Thirteen now,  eight monolithic years...................................................stretch............. ..............................................a................ .......................backward................... ...........path.................   An “illegal” pays for the progress of Ms. S. Tiny sacrifice to hold the child ...