My Neighbour, Queen For A Moment
The night is sweating -
it's always so hot in August.
Most people leave the city,
like cockroaches leave a hotel
when the exterminator arrives.
But not me -
I can't afford it
& my open window affords me
no fresh air, no respite.
Only the voice of my neighbour,
drifting up with the steam
from her kitchen -
glistening with praise & admiration
"!Esta cena es un banquete!"
(This food is a banquet!)
Her words are beer and cigarettes,
"¡Digno de una reina!"
(It's fit for a queen!)
I raise my eyebrows at my cat,
dozing on my discarded shirt,
her eyes like small sleeves.
The heat doesn't seem to bother her so much.
.
.