Undressed - (first edit)
She met El Ingeniero at the ice cream
parlor
after dance rehearsal. She was fifteen
when she married him, yet fifteen years later
at his funeral she couldn't remember his face.
She couldn't remember the faces of any
of their children either. She had forgotten
the fortune teller's solemn expression when she
demanded to be taught how to feel in bed.
"No, you're too young," the fortune teller replied.
She felt stupid, it was their honeymoon and she knew
nothing about sex. But Sally fueled the old woman
with a challenge: "You don't know
how to feel." The old woman lifted her skirt
and sat, saying: "This is your center. Enjoy
the whirlwind. But be careful, it does not allay
a man's anger, and what you learn, you don't forget.
Ralph had been her dance partner, but he
didn't take an interest in her until after
she had had her second child. It was the way
her name had started to cast shadows around
his muscles. She remembered
her lover's body on the sidewalk,
another of her husband's drug trafficking
victims. Recalling Ralph's face
was the only way she could get herself to cry,
like a good wife, at her husband's funeral.
There was talk in town. Some said he had been
poisoned with herbs. Others said it was witchcraft.
She was happy, the horizon on fire in her retinas,
undressed flamingo behind the palisade.
Undressed
She met El Ingeniero at the ice cream parlor
after dance rehearsal. She was fifteen
when she married him, yet fifteen years later
at his funeral she couldn't remember his face.
She couldn't remember the faces of any
of their children either. She had forgotten
the fortune teller's solemn expression when she
demanded to be taught how to feel in bed.
"No, you're too young," the fortune teller replied.
She felt stupid, it was their honeymoon and she knew
nothing about sex. But Sally fueled the old woman
with a powerful challenge: "You don't know
how to feel." The old woman lifted her skirt
and sat, saying: "This is your center. Enjoy
the whirlwind. But be careful, it does not allay
a man's anger, and what you learn, you don't forget.
She remembered her lover's lifeless body
on the sidewalk, another of her husband's
drug trafficking victims. Recalling Ralph's face
was the only way she could get herself to cry,
like a good widow, at her husband's funeral.
There was talk in town. Some said he had been
poisoned with herbs. Others said it was witchcraft.
She was happy, content facing her future alone,
an undressed flamingo behind the palisade.
