Point the quarter moon
Hard pavement
With crecent curves,
Big on heart when villages
Raid for the totilla's final
Call,
Caps styled latest
Rest off the young and full hearted
Slowly contemplating
With final breath,
Grandmothers son
Took the last one she baked,
Aroz con pollo,
The taste leaving the earth,
Once bit,
A final savor
The West on no one's side
While quarter moon
Cries full.