paella by Krystalina Padilla
a myriad of colors shine through my window
like a preschoolers sticky fingered collage
of multicolored construction paper.
a man tripping on shrooms
sees the rainbow in me.
this paella, with an immense number of mussels,
more than my liking, is poured onto my plate.
The mussels, ripped from its kin of black-shelled
siblings, must fend for itself in a plate of foreigners.
It’s black shell protects them for the time being,
as the heat from the food rises into our nostrils,
and transports me to where north meets south.
Our feet topple against the magnitude of which our
world divides,
two worlds collide; we fall
on a grassy plain and gaze up—
our canvas splashed with a watercolor gray,
now illuminates with the breath of a thousand stars.
The sea crashes against our backs and our wings
bedew as wet paper. We find shelter in the night
and paint a new sky.