What We Do With A Collection of The Dead
after Cauleen Smith’s Black and Blue Over You (After Bas Jan Ader for Ishan), 2010
My grandfather rearranges hydrangeas by the cut of their stems, like living
cells, once split—swift & unheard. Quercifolia & pink, he & I untangle living.
More beloved lives cusp. Grand bouquets of sword lilies & lupines inearth
my grandfather’s furniture. He collects his grandson’s voice with the living
& I read vignettes about our dear Moon. At home, strangers arrive to unplug
a grandson’s bedside breathing equipment. That was his sound, left living.
Pressure pushes water out of a long hose like some braided streams, open
& running after gravity in all directions. Rust is nothing, but another living
shadow. Every grandfather knows an infiniteness like dried yard leaves. But I,
María Fernanda, have a grandfather who gives me all of his leaves, still living.
***
Author photo courtesy of author
