I.

Hides beneath
A Bench billboard;
Andi Manzano's
Bogus whitening cream
Shadowing a
River of tar—

Sawdust dancing along an
Ailing surface of
Black film.

Quiet, perhaps even
Serene. But very much
Sick
And gray
And dark.

II.

At the heart of the river
Is a lone
Brown woman
With
Gloved hands and
Old, wooden net.

Fishing under the heat of
The sun.

we have our own worlds;
we are completely unanimous

we'll never leave,
now that you've drawn us by your magnetism
you are essential

coexistingly contradistinct;
has no one enlightened you?
you, I, all of us
are celestial bodies
in the vast space
and we orbit around you

pirouette and waltz on our own particular rhythms
we are on different belts, but even then,
don't you see?
parallel lines don't meet

don't ever forget,
for every time you crumble,
a new star is born;
your rebirth
embrace this because

Sun, you are a star