Hippocampus

And a broken woman
writes on the wall
ruin in white chalk:

“Daddy, I waited here for you
a thousand times, but you
never showed up.”

Her poems caption
invisible sketches
of skeletal structures.

Become silent
lyrics to an instrumental

with conga, claves,
baritone sax, banjo or tres,
instead of guitar.

Her unspoken words
translate photos
someone forgot

to delete from a phone
donated to another one
who lives

on the other side
of the Malécon.

Another one
who swims

with porpoises
and seahorses
inside crumbled concrete reefs.

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