Into the Spell

When we leave / the fortress of El Morro at sunset / a rainbow of / Havana-bound taxis curl /  round the gate, waiting / for los malditos turistas  to make up their minds   Ten pesos? Vamos, ten pesos—

A fifties Ford pulls up beside us / top down / an American  classic / in the wrong country / wrong century / holding  the past and present awkwardly together / like how the taped-up door handle  clings / to the panel for dear life and / somehow / stays on—

I think about Uber and cabs / with air conditioning back home  and I don’t / miss them.

This one is soft / blue, a cloudless sky before it  bleeds / pink into balmy dusk / and then we’re flying into the spell / of the swelling moon / and then we’re falling  into the Túnel de la Bahía / swallowed  by the womb / again / and then we disappear / into salt  air / Icarus would’ve lived / if he chose the night.

I give up trying / to fix my hair / tangled in whispers / ghosts  of passengers past / we emerge from the darkness / thrust into life—

Havana unfurls / before us / twilight bloom / dama de noche / ] a girl like me has no business taking a / bride this beautiful.