What Matters, Vivi? Poem by Scott Underwood

What Matters, Vivi?
You sing that Neruda poem
As the ancients
Of Machu Picchu
Unclench their stony fists.

Your voice resonates
With the ghosts surrounding us,
Yet, I think that song
Is all that is needed.

I memorize the breath of your hair
As Pedro says:
“All there is in life is poetry, art, music…
The rest is bullshit.”

But I see more.
Sometimes.

I see wet bodies
Atop beds of flowers
Filleted by the pleasant squeeze
Of The Gardener’s shears.

I see the storm coming
To this desert flower of a city.
The rain falls into the sand and on the street
Like kisses to a dry, naked belly.

I see poetry and paintings and drunks together
Beneath these megalopolitan shadows
As you reminisce on what was, is,
And what might be hereafter.

I hear you sing of the ancient rocks
That are unclenching their fists a world away.