Vulcan Lane

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----a poem by Gizelle Nieves

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At the top of Vulcan Lane — there I would lay down my parka

 

On the grass and meditate, cross-legged; there was a girl

 

Who sat beside me there;

 

She would hold a blue flower at the center of the bullring

 

While the twigs on the tree became black

 

And then slowly green again — she was young — if I had said,

 

‘Have my coat; have my money’ —

 

She would have gone away; but because I gave her nothing

 

She came again and again to share that nothing

 

Like a bird that nest in the open hand.