Balmy Alley

Fresh flowers
Have just sprouted
From the ground
On Balmy Alley

Homegrown flowers
Of the Frisco

Flora Homeboy/homegirl

Fresh flowers
The color of
Abuelita skin on
A spring day

Flowers with mouths
That spit rhymes
And kiss wounds
Both seen and unseen

Flowers whose
Petals tremble
To the bass heart
Of La Mission

Fresh flowers
Cut by the machete
Tongue of poets whose
Sweet sweat mango
Fragrance lives in their skin

Who climb the
Rooftops and declare the
Neighborhood theirs

Fresh flowers
Whose roots twist and turn
Under the concrete, so deep
And so intricate that it can’t
Be pulled out or killed by the
Pesticide real estate cloud

Fresh flowers
Have sprouted and they
Have been here for generations
And are reborn on this concrete
Alley, on this floating island
Known as San Francisco

Fresh flowers that
Have floated down black
Rivers and spread its fragrance
Over fences and barriers meant
To keep us out

The flowers got
Names too:


Flowers whose
Faces, stems fragrance
Cannot be evicted

And the flowers
Become faces and the
Faces become murals
And the murals are
Us and they are ours

Despite what the
Tourists (Short term and long term)

© 2015 Tony Robles


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