Chicano Poet

Thursday, April 26, 2018

The Jungle

Gazelle crossing
a river

spits in its palm
much like I am

mad about you
water swirling

in a tree
to get away

and the closet
full of clothes

which belonged
to a young girl

whose footprints
stretch across

my heart
and scar the wings

that rise
like jungle sun

startling the herds
of men

who are
so unlike me