Autumn Hayes (1st place. Poetry. Spring 2012 Writing Contest)
Orchids of impossible blue
spring up from crumbly-coffeegrind rainforest soil,
diamondbeads of water poised to drip
from their lips,
sparkling, slipping through thick air,
licking lemurs,
while crocodiles, capuchins, and butterflies share tea,
and yet…
Endless expanses of elbow-high grasses
stretch away in goldenwheat glory,
shades of purple-grey,
lilac, peach, and tangerine
creeping their stalks
like thirsty beggars up dusty paths,
and yet…
Monolithic mountains and twisted trees
throw flocks of long birds
to the sky in white Vs,
fluttering across khaki roads
riddled with cocoa-rice puddles
reflecting the sky,
and, still,
the people
the people are all in midstride
beautifully-dark-vulnerable
with oilspill eyes,
slim-bent under their burdens,
listing off toward the side
of the road and staring
always staring
some with wonder, some with daring
at the foreign to them
the non-African
the thing that doesn’t fit in
at who?
Me?
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