Between Windows

I look at this

and I don’t think

how beautiful.

I wonder

how much

the woman

who handed over the egg

had left

for herself.

Because in Cuba

even generosity

has a cost.

An egg

passed between two windows

is never

just an egg.

It is one woman

looking at another

and quietly deciding,

I’ll have one less today.

And still

my country

lives this way

loving

in the dark.