Wake up and rub the sleep away.
Reach out looking for his shoulder but
Fingers graze a cool pillow.
He was never even there.

©Esther Moreira


Sultry Glimpse

The sunlight glints off the just washed cherry red Honda Civic next door. The glare from the specialty rims in chrome blind the eye and if you look closely enough there are tendrils of steam from the water evaporating. The sidewalk is damp and the air is heavy with moisture that oozes into the recesses of your lungs. The sweet smell of a spring air freshener coupled with the sour tang of garbage juice gives this part of the sidewalk a specific aroma that signals home in a way that nothing else can. The kids next door are running around in cutoff jean shorts and thin white tanks with faded Animaniacs characters. They have old water bottles that they’re spraying each other with. Their gleeful shouts float above the deep bass line of the current rap song that is blasting from the electric neon orange portable speaker. A few brown sparrows bathe in a pool of water in a lip on the curb just down from the Civic, splashing and shaking their feathers and chirping. A soft breeze moves through and leaves behind a hint of raindrops.

©Esther Moreira


I walk past a mirror and hope I’m not too “black”.
I walk out the door and hope I make it back home.
I walk past some cops and hope nothing I do “scares” them.
I walk into a store and hope the owner doesn’t accuse me of theft.
I walk past a nice house and hope the owners don’t assume I’m suspicious.
I walk out of my house each day knowing it could be my last.


©Esther Moreira