Monday, August 19, 2013

Two Poems by Laura Rojas

when you cross the street like a sailor breathing underwater
there's something about
and the
sadness of winter
that makes
a cat curl up
makes my hands
curl up
and makes everyone in the world
for someone else in the world and
for something else in the world
     something more in the world
so I listen to your voice
until I fall asleep
and it's spring
(now, dear)
If I sit on the train
and the seat goes
I’ll watch fields green with rain
people lonely or together
holding bags, umbrellas, hands
a collective of rain jackets
stitched together like a colourful plastic quilt
and sleeping
people sleeping
talking on the phone
the earth muddy and promising
trains driving on parallel tracks

but we divide so easily
thin hairs or blades of grass
and people are fragile
soft bodies soft flesh
imbalanced things, so tentative
with mouths for kissing
each other’s mouths
and kissing
each other’s hands
which we hold together
in prayer in movie theaters under school house desks
under heavy blankets
in the daytime rain
my seat goes backwards
and I go back 8 hours
to the blue sky of morning and
a city
talking on its own
Laura Rojas is a 19 year old university student currently living in Toronto, Ontario but originally from Bogot√°, Colombia.  She dreams of publishing a book of poetry as well as saving the Amazon rainforest.  She's in love with everything, so she writes about it. 

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