Miami's Atemoya

Miami’s Atemoya

Miami's Atemoya
Miami’s Atemoya

Each year she waited
For the next year to come
Pomelo mojito mixes
Teased her sun browned skin
She loved Santeria
Before she met this pale man
Who served her hidden fruits

In this sad extension
Of the United States
She was in sugarcane land
Before her teeth
Sunk into the creamy flesh
Of Miami’s Atemoya
Paranoia onset one

She seethed with nostalgia
For Cuba de Ayer
She stomped in parades
Watching the horizon and her window
And their righteous masquerades
Dance, ring, and play
For Cuba de Ayer

Her only spring season
Consisted of mind-caging hope
Her only freedom
Was abiding, trying to cope

From the pale man’s bed frame,
A bird’s song sounded like her voice
Or that of another
Yesterday’s yesterday
Calling to abandon myth

The bird sang to her
As she tried to reach
The Atemoya of Miami
Whose taste was now bitter

In the spring of hope
Melanie Falconer is a freelance writer and editor living in Los Angeles, California. Her writing mainly concerns philosophy, personal experiences, cultural commentary, and her love of the visual and performing arts. If you’d like to reach out to her, you can do so here.