and mangoes on the counter
silently ooze sweetness, anyone
arrives through the door warmly,
and sweat seals our skin together
in cheek-kisses. A nimble infant,
the bright sun hangs on us,
while, in front yards, banana spiders
spin pearly filaments, and catch
the devil’s red at the thorny edges
of themselves. In the storms of June,
the waves break from the teal sea,
like a seventh seal, and pass
ominously through the patched-
labyrinth of parks, and children
revel in it, the mud and mangroves;
But, they have seen the little perditions
of the periwinkle: To endless displace
each grain of sand, all for the waves’s
moon-cadence, and the white froth that spills
against the sand into the declensions
of another language and is wiped clean.

– Andrew Hanson

Author’s Note: Miami is a truly unbounded place, and I hoped to convey this in the poem’s images and energy.