poetry

Morning shadows
ni Imelda Morales Aznar

at 6 am
two young children
sitting on the grass
breathing

brothers maybe
four and six maybe
sharing a bag of gold
liquid, thick like honey

sun sends silver
everywhere else
I shine, too:
hair, earrings, watch buckle

jeeps and cars start blowing
smoke into the yellow morning
enfolding the almost
invisible siblings

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