Issue #20 (2011) PDF - myweb - Long Island University

Alane Celeste
THE HAVE-NOTS
Flies hovered over our heads
Knowingly consuming the
Miserable air above our existence
As they flew, they
Tickled my little
Starved pot belly
Stuffed with sugar water and hard candy
Covered in the remains
Of the pretend playground we longed for
Our world was made out of dry dirt
And an empty
Floor in the living room of the shack
That was my home.
Whenever it rained,
The four walls were
Overwhelmed with musical sounds
As the drops fell
Hard upon the metal roof
We were certain that we were
Being touched by the salty tears of God and
That was our chance to squeeze between the holes
Of the metal bars in the living room door
And escape our cage
To run around free
With the other have-nots
In the rain
The warm
Black coffee rain
With remnants of sweet sugar cane
and coconut water.
The world, as it rained,
Was empty
With fearful adults who hide from
Such inevitable
Happenings
And shake with fear the fall of a drop upon
Their hard earned pesos
And their sacred untouchable flesh.
They would run and leave the world
And the streets
A quiet and open space for us little ones
The have-nots
To run around freely
And sing tunes that the grown-ups sing anonymously
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