Institute for Latino Studies :: Momotombo Press ::

Lisa Sperber

Sometimes, it seems, you have to put your feet down wherever you are. Take the Martian, for example, inclined sideways in the hazy street, big head bobbing like a mushroom. Time to put feet down. What if this leaves you sideways across the purple street? Take it from the Martian, the feet have to go somewhere.
Confused Landing

Built for One
Tonight, my friend, halfway across the country goes further in to a cement chamber built for one. Color falls off the earth like dust in her cold room. She reaches tenderly towards what has no name for her. Her gray turtle-skin hands pull the vacant blanket up. Perhaps her reeling mind, which I love, picks a place on the wall to bury itself in.