Kallchaki Valley Wind

Blown up from early noon

the dust infiltrates cars & houses,

orifices & pores. 

                          The richest

scarcely notice, insulated by maids

who sweep & mop, grooms who soap 

the saddles & wash the cars, exchangeable 

chicos who water & clip the lawns.

Dressed in brown cotton,

the poorest 

                  earn their pesos 

breathing through bandanas in vineyards 

swept by scorching clouds of dust.

When the white sun

founders behind the highest peak

while the workers pedal slowly home,

when the patrón, familiar in his cava

samples an evening Malbec

                                            only then

does the wind die.