Thursday, January 2, 2014

Dear Abuela - Week 1/ Poem One

Dear Abuela

The smell woke me up.
I padded downstairs
one foot still sore from last week's surgery.
The podiatrist said "take it easy"
I thought, "he has no idea"
My mother, my children's grandmother
stands at the stove
stirring a pot of arroz con gandules
but I encounter my own grandmother
long before I see her.
She turns, hands paper thin,
and knobby,
steadily stirring
and offers my 8 year-old lips
a taste.
Bendicion, Abuela
Dios te bendiga

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