Two Eyes Cenote tiburon

morning broke, though soto could scarcely see it. he knew by the rhythms of the earth: the cessation of hoarse-throated frogs, the cadence of birdsong — he raises his head from the dark floor and begins. 

first he’d sang for safiya — but now the full-throated croon that crescendoed in that dark crypt sang for @Khusobek. 

filled to brimming with the ribald humor and machismo of his kind, soto’s song arcs and searches — where is the father?  

and packed around his feet is a new gift.