14 Home was an altar: meaning plaster statues of saints, laminated prayer books, change and crumpled receipts emptied out of trouser pockets at the end of each day. Carved idols of guava wood guarded the rice bin, sacks of potatoes, braids of garlic. In summer, river water curled cold against shale. In winter, frost on the fingers; but never enough to learn as children do in other lands, the price of a ripped tongue from kissing the cold full on the mouth. Around a lagoon ringed by willows, horses cantered all day for tourists. When we are all done with our short careers, where do we think we’ll go?
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.