Chicano Poet

Thursday, April 21, 2005

When The World Was Only Eight Years Old

In winter we had
only a wood burning stove
to keep warm,

mama closed off
all but one room
(the bedroom)

and if we wanted
to stay warm
that was the room

to be in.
The kitchen, the bathroom
and the other bedroom

were always freezing.
Out in the backyard
the dog shivered,

in the other bedroom
my books froze
to the Arctic bookshelves---

Spring was for the white man
in his cozy house
I thought.

Now,fifty years later
my house is warm
like the white man's house.

is either
good or bad.


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