April 29: Rural Honduras, Fall 1992

by allisonkujiraoka

Cement floors for a bed,

and cold showers overhead,

and us in our borrowed work clothes.

The Belizean complained the most.

Burning waste in the punishing heat

Burros untethered in the street:

very few can imitate that bray.

We took our meals across the way.

A criss-cross fence turned our habitat

into a kind of performance art that

made it hard to leave our room.

We felt like animals in the zoo.

Crafted in a wooden shack

sipped through straws from plastic bags

Licuados sold on the distant corner

Chocolate-banana was the best flavor.

In the deepest hour of night

a fog would settle under moonlight

on cows grazing in the makeshift soccer field

on machetes for show that the drunken might wield.

There was a church just a few minutes’ walk

In front we dug a long, wide trough

though I don’t remember why.

This is the slide show in my mind’s eye.

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