LatinosUSA

That hand lurking in the dim shade
daughter of shadow
signs its name upon a letter
what does it stand for?
love? Scheme, or bitter hatred

follow it, and you reach a slender arm
its skin must taste sour and cold
bringing back the morning rain
and winds wandering across distant meadows

White steeds outside the window, red weathervanes
encircled by a sea of woods
strangers’ wide-brimmed hats float up like bubbles

Now the hand rests on the rail motionless
you can never tell its intent
shadows keep all secrets well

Tiny bubbles fade away at the cup’s bottom
then it presses gently against a forehead
the sea lies utterly calm
fleets stay anchored, not drifting onward

What new sight unfolds before your eyes?
bubbles still rise slow
something drips down from balcony blooms
sticky, like serpent’s slaver

The hand slips back to its original place
far away, another hand weeps upon a horse’s back