Poetry | June 19, 2020
Poems: Javier Zamora
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PUERTO BARRIOS, GT—She knew where
power came from. How the chord made
it bright once plugged into her wall. If she
really thought about it, the outlet looked like
a frightened porcelain doll, or a gringo.
She knew they couldn’t keep buying gas for
the generator. Not if the price kept increasing.
There must be an easier way.
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