The nightmares show
two boys standing in the salty Matanzas

One has his father’s golden
Almond – shaped eyes
the other
Still holds shades of new – born
baby blue

One is blowing bubbles through
a nine-o-tails made of chain links
his golden eyes furl at the corners,
wrinkle into snaring, snarls

the other boy chases
swings a sickle
back and forth
back and forth

but then a warm breeze passes
carrying soapy orbs high
out of harm’s way,

a wind that whispers
extinguish all endangerment
before it’s too late.


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