Three Little Words
— Claudia D. Hernández
We walked the storm
with melted feet
chatting in
s l o w m o t i o n ,
our viscid
mouths
sealed
with thirst.
Our
burnt gazes
a f r a i d
to see the ghosts
in the darkness
of the path
in the emptiness
of dust and bones
until we
stumbled upon
the moist
lips of the river:
Rio Bravo
on my side,
Rio Grande
on your side.
No one
drank from
the muted
river;
our bronzed flesh
kept us warm
as we floated
in the water
resembling
small boats
splattered
with
fresh water /
salted water
we disembarked on
the other side on time—
Your side.
My side.
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