A Latin American Sonnet  

There is a palm tree somewhere, and a bird
of paradise that speaks to me in my dreams.
Well, not actually a bird, more like a blurred
vision of a plane crossing the endless seams
of a continent too big to fit here, in this isle
of gold where we plant elder for shade, sit
under a dusty sun, whatever it takes. Miles
away from everywhere, in my dreams a Brit
asks all the questions, and I often reply: who-
ever comes for tea will one day have to leave
for a better world. I end up kissing the beau
who is from here, or just about, so naive!
A blue parrot repeats my name in old English,
I wake up. Phew. It was a dream, well…ish.



A Latin American Sonnet II
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