Gringolandia
written by: Robin McNamara
Mi amor,
her body —
a shaken flower. Heart hollow,
to the touch.
Eye of the storm —
centred the grief.
Listening to Bach’s Mass in B Minor,
the moon, blue, trees, crepuscular.
A tail of comet —
crisp, in the night air.
Mira, those broken-brown-eyes,
pleading, for an idyllic
white picket fence life.
Without a religion to pray to,
lust takes its place —
crucifying love.
Marriage of inconvenience.
The body weightless, of pasión.
The faith of her church died
a long time ago, in El Salvador.
Father blessed the voyager child.
Under a sky foreign to her creed,
she sips her cortadito and laments
about Gringolandia.
‘El Diablo juzgará a todos los falsos ángeles.’
APRIL 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Robin McNamara is a widely published poet from Ireland. His debut pamphlet, Under a Mind’s Staircase was published with Hedgehog Poetry Press (2021). Nominated for the Pushcart Prize for ‘Apple Picking Season’ from Under a Mind’s Staircase.
Latest posts by Robin McNamara (see all)
- Gringolandia - January 11, 2026
- Under Words - September 22, 2025
- Buying Mangos in Escolta Street - August 18, 2025
