I sometimes recite my love as charity….

For:
No stretch is too exhausting, no pull to hard.
No banknote is precious nor does a penny equal one.
A penalty is just a random,
With no intent or harm,
And a kiss is not just a mild affection ,
Nor a hug, cuddle or gentle touch
Equates to little or nothing or none.
Anything I do, is big and strong.
Everything I own,
To my small hands,
Stretch marks, belly
And weird feet.
He sees nothing but beauty, and not only of that of
Skin deep.

And I have learnt this lesson from charity,
Love is boundless, a fortified state
Of being connected 100 percent.
An eye for an eye,
Quotes the bible, I say –
An eye for a body plus surplus.
For love is seeing a grain,
And tasting the whole field.

It’s early,
shutters yawn open
drawing in an already spirited sun.

I reluctantly roam
an unchartered narrow maze
of whitewashed walls.

Fingers squeeze
a mint mil Pesetas banknote
and list, written in my mother’s
stern and starchy hand.

I am the outsider,
inside and out.

I inhale
pine dust, bins and septic tanks,
I exhale
a huff of childhood hopelessness.

Shadows startle me
with machine gun Catalan.

I didn’t hear the rumble of the water truck.
Didn’t look right when I crossed the road.
Didn’t thank the stranger who saved me,

until now.

Once upon a time
A heavy banknote in the pocket of a pant,
heading to the laundry, mocked a coin.