mama
she'd eat handfuls
of volcanic soil
to supplement
my growth
when night came
streets dark
power out
foot soldiers
up steps
through wild trees
machete hands
hungry
foggy skies
tinged with
gunpowder
& rosy trumpets
mothers,
children
laughing
beneath feet
rumbling magma
impending on the pulse-
no need to worry
night follows day
hail sedates
the crackling rooftops
like small bombs
shattering sleep
cold fruit
on hot tongues
mimic peace
my deficiency
held
hand to mouth-
fertile farmland
in the belly
fill me
till I sprout
Ingrid Calderon is a Salvadoran refugee residing in Historic Filipinotown. She's published in Leste Mag, Electric Cereal, Dryland, Seafom Mag, Anti-Heroin Chic etc... After writing 3 chapbooks, 'Things Outside', 'Wayward' & 'Zenith', she continues the mischief by scribbling nonsense into verse. She hopes it resonates. Find her on Twitter @BrujaLamatepec