Valentina

Because of their innocence the spirit world manifests itself to children
so i know you used to visit me
on nights i was alone with my thoughts
standing over my shoulder
to share the book i was reading
your garment of liquid glass visibly white
remained in my room until my young body surrendered to sleep

now your yellowed portrait sits with me at the kitchen table
i look into my own eyes
and remember you through invention
sitting behind your sewing machine
quick fingers maneuvering deftly
knitted eyebrows
in concentration

in your yellowed portrait i trace the contour of my own nose
and you are standing in the kitchen
onion overpowering warm chorizo undertones
sizzling
in the center of the pan
stirring in sofrito you ask about my book
my schoolwork
the boy who keeps teasing me

in your yellowed portrait
you thin lips pressed shut;
no smiles, yet no lies
painted red
glossy and preserved
your body brought forth three men
reason enough for the constant click of rosary beads
reason enough to rub a crucified Jesus
down to a nub

a woman, a widow, a mother, a yellowed portrait
and broken hearts
an untold story
unlearned lessons
unprayed prayers and unsung praises
lying in wait
for glory day