Poetry:
deCormier-Shekerjian, Regina
Regina deCormier-Shekerjian Kinship On this day in November that mask, that pink skull that bares its white teeth in a grin from the center of the green and red rays of the sun. proclaims...
...or the day the rain came with its green promise of com...
...In the marrowbone the knowledge that tomorrow this food we leave for the dead will fatten the possums...
...in our pockets keys, lists, eyeglasses, the loose change of Fate.lists, eyeglasses, the loose change of Fate...
...These flowers we place on the graves of the angelitos, the little ones, will give themselves to the bees...
...Today, on the Day of the Dead, on this day in November, we remember, and we dance the two-step dance of the kinned...
...or the day we bought a new pair of shoes, the day we sang in the shower and embraced the sweet aromas of laundry and tomatoesthe day we forgot the name of Death is the name that bleats in the mouth of Life...
...proclaims kinship, and ceremony...
...On this day in November, in the cemetery, with machetes we hack down the year's growth of weeds...
...sweep away the leaves covered with dust, bring flowers, and food, guitars brimmed with songs, alabanzas, for the ones Death stole, too often on the day we were forgetfulthe day the sun caroled its gold in a sky like a benevolent bishop...
...Throw out the dead wreaths...
...And we will rise and go to our jobs in the ordinary light of an ordinary day...
...In the netted light endless variations of memory, the clockwork of approaching history...
Vol. 115 • October 1988 • No. 18
