Iris Figueroa

I

Among the two mango trees,

the only moving things

were the ropes of the hammock.

II

I was of two minds,

like a tree

holding one end of a hammock.

III

The hammock twisted in the summer winds.

It was a small part of the pantomime.

IV

A man and a woman

are one.

A man and a woman and a hammock

may make another one.

V

I do not know which to prefer,

the beauty of deep sighs

or the beauty of snoring,

my abuela napping 

or just after.

VI

Flower petals filled the fabric

with a delicate coat.

The mood

traced in the foliage:

a complete lack of hurry.

VII

O potbellied men of the tropics,

why do you imagine still beds?

Do you not see how the hammock

comforts the feet 

of the women around you?

VIII

I know island accents

and vivid musical rhythms, 

but I know, too,

that the hammock is involved

in what I know.

IX

When the hammock went too high,

it marked the edge

of one of many circles.

X

At the unraveling of the hammock 

with themselves still inside it, 

my cousins cried out sharply.

XI

He flew over the yard 

in a multi-colored cocoon.

Once, a fear pierced him,

in that he mistook

the shadow of his feet

for a snake.

XII

The wind is blowing.

The hammock must be swaying.

XIII

It was summer all year long.

It was not snowing

and it was never going to snow.

The hammock sat

between the palm trees.