Ebony Cloud

Jaime Rodriguez

The ebony stands,
black core,
its thorns, 
zigzagged knives
waiting for skin.

No fruit, no softness—
yet from the dark crown
a narcotic bloom
choking incense
in the lungs.

First one moth,
then a thousand
bees, beetles, 
thin-winged bodies,
a scatter of sparks
trembling the bark.

It should not bloom—
but the scent
spins its web,
a cloud threaded
in yoked spines,
its buzz milking musk.

When I step closer,
the wings find me,
mining the salt,
filling my mouth
until my tongue
cracks to wings.

I hear the trunk drone
as if the core
were hollow,
inside that hardness
a fever of wings
pressing to split the bark’s black skin.

Jaime Rodríguez is a Chicano poet from the Rio Grande Valley. His work traces the quiet tensions of memory, desire, and silence across cultural and ecological landscapes.

Art: Elaine Chu and Marina Perez-Wong: Click here for more information