2 untitled poems | richard modiano

untitled, one

Ah habaneros! here she is the tawny skinned woman who grew them in rich Mother Earth with their off-the-chart capsicum quotient her jet dark hair streaked with silver her broken nose her long brown fingers holds the tiniest sliver of habanero "Just a taste" she says she puts it in my mouth like a communion wafer The fire starts right away my eyes water my nose runs I break out in a cool sweat but it burns anyway really burns burns like the Buddha's Fire Sermon "Shall I put it out?" she asks I can't speak so she speaks for me she presses her lips to mine and parts them with her tongue and the taste of her quenches me

untitled, two

"BOBBY SANDS DIES" screamed the Daily News headline filling a quarter of the front page above a grainy black & white photo of Sands, his long tousled hair framing his smiling face filling the rest of the page 27 years old and dead in the Maze We stood in front of the newsrack at Gems Spa in the early hours, up all night drinking and drugging now in the dawn's early light Next to the lurid News the sober NY Times headline the first paragraph printed in bold “rioting erupts across Northern Ireland” "extra security ordered for British Consul General's office" "NYC's Irish community needs to remain calm, says the mayor" What will the Westies do? We wondered Should we go to the Hibernia and check out the action later on? What's the over and under on a hot time in Hell's Kitchen tonight?
Photo by Ivan Torres on Pexels.com

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