Tag Archives: Valentina Cano

Tableau of a Miami Suburb

by Valentina Cano

The water shines with grease,

the kind that sticks to scales,

digging beneath them like grout.

Sucked dry plastic bottles

rest against the stained grass,

artifacts waiting for a death

that will never come.

The wind ruffles nylon,

not feathers,

as it moves in hot gasps,

and the dirt is bleached

grey with the sun bearing down on everything.

Just one more bored neon light.


Hollow Woman

by Valentina Cano

While the woman watched TV,

the room around her decided to leave.

To take itself away from someone

who chewed air,

who thought of nothing

but of the empty spaces between words.

The room could not stand another

minute of her breathing,

silent, strong, and tasting of the endless

cups of cheap tea cooling like bathwater in her stomach.

The room left

and the woman never noticed.