Sandymartz@aol.com 

A Love Story

1. Long Night

Damp skin to damp skin
she rocks gently
to the hum of the kitchen
the flutter of night birds.
His tiny hand wraps round her finger.
For now they are safe.
She prays for a long night.

2. The Kiss

Her heart is full of grief.
Her heart is broken.
The pain runs out the bottom.
Love flows in the top
runs out the bottom.

They let her dress him.
She touches his face, his body
checks to see 
if he was taking care
of himself.
He's not skinny.
She feels better.

She kisses his feet.
Like the day he was born.

3. Waiting

A menagerie of glass 
misfits
throwaways
a hummingbird with no feet
an apple with no stem
an angel with only one wing.
He sees past the missing parts
the sharp dangerous edges
scoops them up
gives them sanctuary 
in the small drab room
where his dreams struggle to survive.

They crouch on shelves
hide in drawers
wait in boxes 
to be discovered by someone else
another savior
who finds beauty where others see
only trash.

4. April's Sorrow

Wind whips against windows
rattles the glass
whistles up drain spouts.
Trees bend
flick roof tops with bare limbs
unburden themselves
of the last dry leaves
prepare for spring rebirth.

April's sorrow,
an unwanted but expected guest,
slips quietly into the room
sits in the corner of her heart.

She presses fingertips
to the cool glass
prays for a cleansing wind
to lift the dead foliage
of guilt and regret.

5. What She Saves

Each harsh word.
Each time she made a selfish choice.
Midday calls from the school,
late-night calls from the police. 
Relief when he leaves
grief, emptiness 
when he is gone. 

He lives a life without rules
but with consequences.

She waits for visiting hours to begin
endures the silence 
when family news is exhausted.
Later he refuses even phone calls.
She waits 
hopeless
sees the future 
is not prepared when it arrives.

She saves it all in a small box,
buries it
in the back yard
in an unmarked grave.
Starts a new box for
other things she needs to save.

6. Dias de los Muertos

Borrowing from the neighbors
she builds an altar
covers it with photographs and birth-
day cards, his favorite book,
homemade calaveras and sugar skulls. 

She reads that in Oaxaca those who
leave this world con violencia
return early on 28 de Octubre
perhaps to leave room for gentler
spirits who arrive on All Souls Day.
She buries herself in mindless work
glasses of tequila
until after midnight. The altar sits 
dark
alone. 

1 November: 
tissue paper flowers, papel picado
flutter in the draft of burning candles
lift another layer of grief.

© Copyright, Sandra Martz.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.