by Ines P. Rivera-Prosdocimi<\/p>\n
For Julian Ramirez<\/em><\/p>\n In a house whose writer disappeared, (2019)<\/p>\n Slapping Bones by Ines P. Rivera-Prosdocimi For Julian Ramirez In a house whose writer disappeared, cluttered by clothes hangers, pads\u00a0he\u2019d\u00a0stitch into shoulder seams & the roosters his boss nurtured for the cockfights,\u00a0he\u2019d\u00a0tell me stories of\u00a0el\u00a0campo, where the\u00a0flamboyans sat apart & cane stretched out for miles. Backroads where you could breathe, bachata\u2019s beat like a distant … Continue reading Slapping Bones<\/span>
\ncluttered by clothes hangers,
\npads\u00a0he\u2019d\u00a0stitch into shoulder seams
\n& the roosters his boss nurtured
\nfor the cockfights,\u00a0he\u2019d\u00a0tell me stories
\nof\u00a0el\u00a0campo, where the\u00a0flamboyans
\nsat apart & cane stretched out for miles.
\nBackroads where you could breathe,
\nbachata\u2019s beat like a distant drum
\nleading\u00a0you. The pain in those songs
\nfelt\u00a0good that last night we were innocent.
\nHe made a cat a paper cup shirt.
\nI pushed the cuticles of his left foot,
\ncutting nails\u00a0that\u2019d\u00a0snap\u2014and\u2014fly.
\nFrank Reyes sang\u00a0Vine a\u00a0decirte\u00a0adios<\/em>
\nwhen we took our dominos out,
\nsmacked one after the other
\non the concrete floor, looking out
\nfor the double-six promising to\u00a0come;
\neach black pip that stared us in the face.<\/p>\nUsed by permission of the author.<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"