Somos Escombros

Secret walls shook themselves to destruction
The faces of houses show no emotion
But rubble has been shoveled into the streets

The black dust of walls swirls
From the depths of each pile
Repulsive incense from altars
Of brick, trash, adobe, and carcasses of rats

Today the piles are carted away
By priests with mid-day sweat-stained shirts
Solemnly heaped into dumpsters
Paraded to their disappearance

And up and down the street
Doors have opened
People gather
Until the breeze carries the last stains of dust
Through a neighborhood thrown open

Together
The people rebuild
The secrets of their neighborhood