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After the Hurricanes.


Their insulin can’t be insulated 
     Because refrigerators (and everything else) 
     Needs electricity, and US. 
     But we aren’t helping. 
     The diabetic (and everyone else) 
     Are suffering
     And will continue to. 
 
It’s been two years since I’ve seen
     Your Puerto Rican side, or you. 
     We were going to go to the island
     But we only ever made it to Florida. 
     Both places are under water now. 
 
The last memory I have
     Is of you and the black and brown 
     Faces of your family. 
     In the living room, 
     Hiding from humidity. 
     I beat your chess-master cousin
     8 to 10. 
     Your crazy cousin 
     Rolled me my first backwood.  
 
We don’t talk anymore. 
     So I can’t ask if Nani 
     (Grandmother to a generation of Ricans,
     The one who took your genes from 
     The Country America has forgotten 
     To Me. 
     The same one who was going to 
     Fly to California for her bones) 
Ever made it. 
 
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