La Florida

Why do I return

year after year

Knowing that crocodiles wait for me

wade for me

in bleached blue swimming pools

Knowing that my body

pale

bloated

and regretful

is not worthy of her white sand shores?

Who does she belong to

if not the mangroves and the butterflies?

Who must build department stores upon land

once prized by kings?

The ground burns my feet

in retribution for the transgressions of my ancestors upon it

and the air wets my skin

with the tears of God.

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