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than protective
vest, she wears a tough flesh
overcoat. Not bullet proof, no.
it serves
keeps men
away, you know
the kind that prey, and stalk
women slight of stature, or off
balance
wearing
stand 'em up shoes
those kind that make you lose.
ones that say come fuck me ~ pumps so
untrue
the coat's
gotten too long
she wants to give it up
donate it to Goodwill ~ it's ov-
er kill
when men's
eyes turn to her
they slide over the hill
her latest disguise is close to
salty
couldn't hug her | enough to leave her there | sun child in the land of snow
your days are overcast skies |
your heart bursts like clouds | it rains from your eyes
everyday we shake our heads |
because we can't believe | you in body are gone | we search for you on
shorelines | in the songs of spirit birds
used to jump at shadows |
inclined to take flight | now never afraid | to take on a just struggle | a
battle of ideas
all her hopes and dreams | born a
reality | his life her salvation
she speaks oracle | no one knows
how to feel it | a flower opened
slanderings scurry | up and down
the shoreline sure | I think of your mouth
winter reminder | driving rain
from the Valley | golfball sized hailstones | April when corn is greening |
foggy storms turn turbulent
you = happy | at times my
greatest sadness | it's an up - down thang
She says let's dream on it | she
no longer thinks | thinking has no heart
we celebrate | national sibling
day | mourn our lost ones | and our parents gone long to land | of ancestors
they've become
sun broke through grey days | a
walk in the snowmelt | April showers frozen
the hawk is wind | razor sharp
its insistence | to stay the course
snow in April | winter holds
spring in its grip | everyone looks for sun
Spring rain spills in ropes | hopes for another green day | tomorrow today
I could
write abuela's
hair braids, her bun~
but what fun would that be?
rather write about her high tops
red dreams
she wore
them in the Spring
garden, planting her seeds ~
calabacitas born darkest
lime green
she grew
corn much taller
than her, barely five foot ~
sweet, abundant that tenderest
golden
green corn
masa for best
tamales of the year
everyone helped shuck, newly born
heaven
because
it is April
her almost birthday month
we sing her las mañanitas
she cries
man gave her lemons | she made lemonade before | she bashed in his head | not really his head you know | but she visioned it in her own
women bleed so much | in so many ways | then become bad daughters | to mothers that don't mean them | no harm only the best good
Copyright © 2016 Odilia Galván Rodríguez. All Rights Reserved.
