Mother Devour

3.28.2018

Vintage Mexican Postcard China Poblana (Teyacapan) by Teyacapan

Vintage Mexican Postcard China Poblana (Teyacapan) by Teyacapan

a mother’s home catches fire
a burner simmers frijoles & chili
the smell of cinnamon, sage, and cedar permeate the old, brown wood of home
ninety-five salt + pepper shakers adorn the red shelves lining the kitchen
and everything screams
a voice is born
the moon is mourning
a flash fire meets gas
men in loose t-shirts and sleep in their eyes rush with great urgency / the flames
she shouts but her screams are muffled by the cry of dogs
the sky breathes ash
the space between the front and back door become one tunnel of red hot blue green fire
and she can see her children huddling
in the warmth of their struggle and the cold of their breath
the stone hearth crumbles, glass breaks
her arms find theirs and wrap over, spun as a shawl
woven / like wool and husk
one child lay sprawled
under the clothes line, calm
eyes half-moon-closed / chest, still
the eldest, his arms receding back to earth at angles like yucca
      underneath the shadow of the dried plum tree
she cries
a slow rush of air and moonlight penetrate her once cool breath
she dies a collective thirty-eight years tonight
a solidarity passage with her sons
the chain link fence does not set fire
a tricycle melts
she breathes and for a moment forgets how to live
mi luna, mi vida
in ten years time, i’ll light a candle
to remind myself of a birth reborn
      a mother’s womb catches fire
      a plum tree bears fruit

 

Paricutin Volcano Postcard Michoacan Mexico (Teyacapan) by Teyacapan (flickr)

Paricutin Volcano Postcard Michoacan Mexico (Teyacapan) by Teyacapan (flickr)