The Land of Your Country
by Naomi Ayala

    Let him stay a little longer.
    I want to taste his sleep on my breasts.
    The moon is high and I feel free.
    I don't want to wake tomorrow.
    I don't want to sleep at all.
    Here, like this
    his dark skin blending with the night --
    the earth, her music -- I feel like singing
    but this one breath is pure moonlight
    this one night too soft for any more utterances.
    This one moon breath.
    This one soft light.
    Trinidad. Trinidad. Trinidad.
    My lover is the land of your country.
    Bless our hungry hearts.

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