Chicano Poet

Thursday, August 19, 2010

In Dante’s Inferno

Isidra descended into
the bright, red hallways,

cautiously, ever so cautiously.
She had removed her shoes,

the heels of her feet
barely touched the stone surface.

If she came face to face
with the Martian monster,

she had no plan.
What her urgent intentions were---

she had no clue.
She felt she owed it to Beto

to, at least, get his personal belongings
off his severed body

while at the same time hoping
not to meet the same fate.

Beto’s torso lay against a wall,
her heart pounding against

her small breasts.
She reached into his pockets,

she unclipped his id badge,
she struggled to pull a ring

from a white, lifeless finger.
A noise startled her,

it was just a fine dust
falling from the ceiling above her.

She hurried out,
hallway after endless hallway.

When she reached the surface,
her eyes were still seeing red,

the red of those lights down there
made her stomach upset.

She felt queasy.
She threw up.


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