Jose Morales//Brooklyn, NY//@JAMpoems
“Boriqua? NO WAY.
Your first breath was not la isla
Hablas espanol como los gringos”
But on the streets, where boy lived
You don’t pronounce
You sweat sazon
You yell like your roosters
At sunrise when you speak
Your skin hides in white
Until the summer suns
Bring brown to surface.”
Sitting on the nearest stoop
I hear the rumble of the
Silver subway snake; a whisper.
“Come child, for I know you
Every crack in every sidewalk
Is a space for you to grow.
You speak my Star-Spangled Spanglish
You know my limbs
Your home is the mixture in between: