Katherine Lutz

Sweet water boiled from cane
covers Havana's streets
in a thin film still as glass
suspended one inch above asphalt
by strings
attached to clouds
that need no atmosphere
but stars and airlessness
for form.

People of the streets do not
walk on stillness but grass.
They toss sickle and stars
over the Caribbean,
droplets fall
into the ocean
and descend to where
ships and coral

The sweet water sweetens
and sours.
Castro dies not once
but twice as
glass shatters
and they pick
from their feet.

Che talks to his shirt.
Cigars smoke.
sharks migrate North and those
are vultures in the
sky. They prefer desert
to jungles of sweet
and sour.

Katherine Lutz lives in Purchase, NY and earned an MFA from Manhattanville College. She has taken workshops with Brooklyn Poets and the Dylan Thomas International Summer School at the University of Wales, and she has been previously published in Oberon Poetry Magazine, Wizards in Space Literary Magazine (Volumes 2 and 3), and Toho Journal Online.

Previous Poem  Table of Contents  Next Poem