By Chris Campanioni
She was rising, bird-like
On the first page, the first
Letter I read, the first line
But we never cut the other kites
From a rooftop
Where you could see
The whole city
Eating earth in Oriente
She’d been singing from the well
Mi alma
Mi vida
Slaking thirst
Via rainwater
Fingers closed
Mouth watering
Flowers, La Mariposa
Fluorescent
Signs on Los Maceo
FRITAS, MEDIANOCHES
So many assurances
¿Cómo vuela?
North American pop, discotecas, business-
Men, nightclubs open all day
Cine Rialto, thin films
Of forgetting, she recalled
Black lacquered flakes
Painted over
Steel Pots
Rayar la pintura
Gunshots in the mountains
The smell of sugar
Burning on New Year’s Day
So many more assurances
La última traición
At dawn,
they threw the bodies in a pit
Cinema verité
Delayed three hours
At the camera crew’s behest
For better lighting
The worst kind of cheat
The worst kind of deception
The worst kind of thief
Oppressive
Air as thick as dreams
Too hot to be bothered
To bathe, she wrote
No choice but to listen
Radio Bemba
No sé No sé No sé
Lip service
CDRs
Formalities,
Everyone informing
On everyone
¿Cómo vuela?
She clung to mambo on the street
Son Montuno
Guajira
Three-fourth and six-eighth
Rhythms
En el Parque Céspedes
Holding hands
Huddled close
In the back of los camellos
Humpbacks
Never silent nights
Rising, bird-like
Mad with love
People used to speak
She said
Con todo mi corazón
Chris Campanioni has worked as a journalist, model, and actor, and he teaches literature and creative writing at Baruch College and Pace University, and new form journalism at John Jay. His “Billboards” poem responding to Latino stereotypes and mutable—and often muted—identity in the fashion world was awarded the 2013 Academy of American Poets Prize. His novel, Going Down, was selected as Best First Book at the 2014 International Latino Book Awards.
