Ana Maria Caballero. Yellow Tomatoes.

22 Oct


I once thought I could know anything

The death knowledge of the Buddha
the clarifying call of Gabriel
former lives and abetting suns
that enthrall worlds more able than mine

I too never doubted my time supply
to be the daughter of the dying father
who buries without the blow of love regret

But my father is dying an excessive death
with a wounded body that aligns
rare moments of life
to the faint efforts of his mind

And I do

I offer my happy baby’s dance
ask about our mayor and the bad president
so together
we can wave our related heads with a laugh

I bring home the foods he likes to eat
chocolate sugar-free
a bag of sweet yellow tomatoes
that falls when his good hand forgets to grab

And when he insists on phoning my mother
makes a promise that he won’t speak drink
I dial

I do I dance

far from the Buddha knowledge of the giving death
deaf to the recurring chant of Gabriel
books by my bed and worlds of grace
that I grasp
but lack the good hand with which to grab

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