her hands opened up into rings of a tree or
mosquitos cast in amber or
May’s cardboard box of wintertime clothes and
letters to receding lovers
reminders for leche and pan
painted signs to take to marches
credit card slips from the pharmacy
condolences to fathers
promises to daughters
agendas for this week
and next month these
poems
her hands
had written and
they too were
written.
her hands.
No comments:
Post a Comment