Marcella Peralta Simon



Marcella Peralta Simon is a recently retired Latinx grandmother, splitting her time between Cambridge, UK and Kissimmee, Florida. She has been a diplomat, university professor, and instructional designer. She has published Coogee Haikus in a journal for emerging Western Australian Writers and Maria, In Three Acts for Pank. She teaches online, paints landscapes and abstracts, and explores woodlands and wetlands with her husband and Treeing Walker Coonhound.


                             What happened that final day?

Sandwiched in between a vacant lot,

Gold and green glass strewn and

Gleaming new high rise.

                             Men drinking Colts from bags as wrinkled as their faces,

Construction cones block the entrance,

Bug encrusted sign BEER FOOD WINE,

Dingy cardboard covers the gaping holes.

Hide your eyes in the merciless Florida light.

                             Egret standing one legged by the dumpster waiting for heels of stale bread,

One solitary can on a dusty shelf,

Once in rows like soldiers on parade.

                                      Exhausted women dragging children to buy milk.

Deli glass case empty,

Once sent out ham sandwiches and Café Cubano,

For the workers building the high-rise next door.

                                      Did the owner make change until the shadows fell over the street?

Shreds of lotto tickets litter the linoleum,

                                      Did the rents get too high to survive in a tourist town?

Once dreams ripped off rolls like calendar months.

                                      Did his only son die in a car crash or become an engineer?

The door padlocked, the sign sputtered, faded, and went black.


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