Your Heart, My Sky
Page 6
to think and speak
independently?
All I know
is that holding hands
means more to me right now
than clinging desperately
to my own
opinions.
Strange Sights in the Countryside
Liana
On the way to bring meat to Amado’s abuelos
we see so many foreigners that we know
the international games must be ready
to spill beyond Havana, bringing sports
of every sort
to the countryside.
Runners, bicyclists,
even birdwatchers
with binoculars!
The tourists seem to arrive as if by sorcery,
carried in old cars that are suddenly
being used as taxis, or hitchhiking,
expecting mercy just because
the sun is hot
and the wait
is long.
Delay
Liana and Amado
The old folks convince us
to keep any food we grow
for ourselves
and our families.
No restaurant.
No fantasies.
Not now.
Maybe soon,
after the presence of outsiders
forces our government
to change.
Souvenirs for the Future
Liana
Instead of trying to sell food to tourists
I watch them, study their fascination
with flotsam and jetsam
on beaches,
and then I begin to create objects
that will keep forever
so that whenever the laws
are altered
I’ll be ready
with sea glass jewelry
to remind travelers
of glittering sand,
and driftwood carved into dolls
decorated with shells, coral, pebbles,
all sorts of gifts from nature
turned into curiosities
for people so wealthy
that all they want to collect
is pleasant memories.
The Gardener’s Heart
Amado
Paz has taught me
that memory is a library
of scents and flavors, while fear
is a warehouse of hungers,
so I try to show an interest
in Liana’s whimsical effort to imagine
a future of creative opportunities,
but all I really trust
is my own two hands
in deep soil
pulling weeds
and feeding roots
with a shower
of generous
sweat.
Separate Hands
Liana
He gardens.
I make hidden treasures.
Together, we experiment
with independence.
A Message from Prison
Amado
Feeling stranded
even though I’m on shore,
I finally discover a smuggled note
from my brother, just as the secret agents
hinted.
The scrap of paper is on my bed.
Have those policemen entered our house?
I can’t ask my parents, because what if
they will be safer not knowing anything
about Generoso.…
My brother’s name is even more archaic
than mine, as if our wistful mother believed
that she could make the future gentle
by ignoring
harsh centuries.
Stay or leave, Generoso’s note advises.
Stay or leave, but don’t come
HERE.
Shocked by the recognition of his handwriting,
it’s easy for me to see that HERE must mean prison.
All I can glean of his meaning is permission to abandon
our pact, forsake pacifism, stay home and join the military
like I’m supposed to, or flee to some other land
where violence
is voluntary.
Florida is where most rafters end up,
but there’s no nation more warlike
than the United States.
Seeing such a cryptic message
makes me feel submerged,
as if I’ve already fallen off a boat
and I’m drifting
downward,
drowning.
Full Belly, Anxious Mind
Liana
When all the pork is gone
Amado gives me a tomato
as red and ripe as a sunrise,
sliced and shared.
With the global games about to begin
and our gardens growing, and my ideas
flowing, I still feel uncertain, even when my hand
strokes Amado’s familiar fingers.
How can love
be enough
in a time
of hunger?
I’m full now, but by tomorrow, once again
we’ll be scrounging.
Dilemma
Amado
Stay home or go?
Remain and let the army change my nature
or float away on a raft to some other country
where I’ll always
be a stranger?
Such a decision can’t be made alone.
First I need to know if Liana
and love
and Paz
will go
with me.
Never
The singing dog
Sometimes the dog understands
human questions.
Is he willing to flee across the sea?
His answer is a howl, not a song,
no rhythm, rhyme, or melody,
just the anguish of centuries suffered.
Stay, humans, stay and share
the mystery of a future
that can only be imagined,
guided, and persuaded,
never
completely
controlled.
Building Hope
Amado
It’s silly to ask a dog questions, he doesn’t
understand me, and he can’t answer, so I begin
to gather bits of wood and string that might
be useful when I construct
our raft.
Is Growth Always So Slow?
Liana
When the games are finally about to begin,
my brothers and all our school friends
return from el campo, wiry and muscular
with sun-roasted skin
and ravenous eyes.
How different life would be if we could all
just roll across the soil like clouds, moving
the way oxen do, ponderously, with gentle gazes
as deep
and dark
as friendship.
Instead, here I am, with a garden that is still
mostly daydreams, waiting for edible
reality.
Ode to Soup
Amado
My mother waited all day in a ration line
until she finally received enough black beans
for sopa, the dark liquid thick and salty, brimming
with green onions that I planted and harvested,
the act of gardening so rewarding
that I feel comforted
from within, as if grains of soil
gathered beneath my fingernails
have a will, choosing
to soothe me.
Rootlets of thought
swirl like soup.
Hot.
Thick.
Nourishing.
It’s the closest I’ve felt to my family
in a long time, the simple act of sharing food
relationships.
Overwhelmed
Liana
Truth strikes abruptly.
My brothers are twins, both sixteen.
Soon they’ll have to join the army or refuse
and be punished, just like Amado’s brother.
Soon Amado will have to make
the same terrible choice.
I’ve been pushing the thought away
for months, but now it sweeps across me
like a tsunami.
The future seems so twisted,
in their place, I would be furious.
What if they—and Amado—all go to prison,
will I even be permitted
to visit?
The Stadium of Starvation
Amado
Opening ceremony,
a televised frenzy,
plenty of electricity today,
so that everyone can witness
the irony.
Government funds were spent to construct
all those new sports facilities in the city,
but it’s money that could have been used
to import protein
for millions
of hungry
citizens.
Old folks like Abuela wouldn’t be diabetic
and nearly blind, if humans were valued
as much as publicity.
Storm Surge
Liana
My brothers immediately understand what I’m doing,
there’s no way to hide all the black market deals
I conduct by trading things I find in the caves
for supplies to help rafters.
My life of secrecy suddenly feels like a storm surge
during a hurricane, swooping closer and closer,
pulled
by whirling winds
that rise
from the heated
sea.
For so long, all I’ve cared about was Amado and Paz,
but now my own family seems real again too,
hungry, needy, close,
desperate.
New Rules
Amado
As we watch the games, I hear official announcements,
learning that laws are suddenly changing, perhaps just
to impress visiting foreign heads of state
with a flurry of new freedoms for Cubans.
Churches are opened after decades of being shuttered.
Overnight, possession of a Bible becomes legal
and prayer
is no longer forbidden.
What will be next?
Permission to buy, sell, cook, eat?
Imagine how wondrous it will be
if Liana can open her daydreamed restaurant
and I am able to grow all the food we need
freely.
Boatless
Amado
The next time I go to the beach, I compare
our shore to other lands shown on television
whenever an athlete is introduced—distant places
with coastlines where fishing boats and freight ships
luxuriate like dolphins or whales, festive
and immense, gliding swiftly across
a peaceful sea.
We have hardly any boats at all.
It’s our government’s way of making sure
that no one tries to leave, not even when we’re
starving, so we’re captives, prisoners of hunger.
Some of the rules might be changing, but unless
they’re altered swiftly, we’ll be an island
of skeletons.
Tonight I’ll find Liana,
I need to talk to her before it’s too late
for words.
How?
Amado
no way to begin
so I wait for slow movement
my voice masked by smiles
Division
Amado Liana
I miss you
when we’re distant
we need to share
feathers wings
words
air
Unity
Liana and Amado
Our
hearts
know
how
to
soar
toward
each
other
this
turbulent
kiss
somehow
peaceful.
Refuge
Amado and Liana
Barracuda,
red snapper,
angelfish,
it’s all the same
as long as we’re fishing together
in a hidden cove, or trading together
in an alley at night, or cooking
together, in the cave’s
farthest chambers,
surrounded
by possibilities…
but Amado says he needs to ask me
something important, and I’m afraid I know
what it will be, so I fall silent
avoiding
disagreements.
Visible Thoughts
The singing dog
The troubled dog watches as the boy
builds a raft in his mind
and the girl avoids seeing the drift
of complicated objects
that will soon be wrapped around her future,
each strand of salvaged rope
or splintered boards
one more
disappointment.
They’ll leave him, won’t they?
Should he abandon them first,
to make the flow
of human disloyalty
less painful?
Pain Relief
Liana
Amado, Paz, and I are still a team, bartering
and bargaining—but the dog seems restless,
Amado is evasive, and black markets are fickle
while ration booklets are tricky, since shoes,
cloth, needles, thread, and bed sheets all require
the same numbered ticket, so that in reality
only one
of those necessities
can be obtained
by each person
each year.
Aspirin, underwear, soap, shampoo,
paper, pencils, toilet paper—none of it exists,
the shelves of ration outlets are almost empty,
so when my mother awakens with a migraine,
all she can do is chew willow bark
and plaster fragrant sage leaves
onto her forehead, returning
to the remedies of ancient times.
She’ll stay home from work today,
and I’ll have no way to do any of my usual
exploration, I’ll have to stay home
and take care of her, offering
the same comfort she always gives me
when I’m sick.
I realize
that this is what life will be like
in a few weeks
when Amado and I have to go back
to school,
and there will never
be
any privacy.
He keeps saying he needs to talk to me
about something urgent, but each time
I ask him to explain, he grows moody
and remote,
making me feel
so alone.
The Language of Wishes
The singing dog
The dog knows how uncertain the future can feel
while it still drifts a few minutes or centuries away,
so he tries to convey his canine sense of time
as a circle instead of a line, but his human friends
understand so little of his melodious voice
that he ends up guiding them with longing
instead
of sounds.
Surely they will sense his need for complete
devotion, the kind that never doubts itself
even for a moment, because life spans
in the mind of a short-lived creature
are endlessly
fragrant.
Why?
Amado
My parents ask why I’m so gloomy,
a neighbor asks why I’ve gained weight,
a tourist asks why I’m so skinny,
a policeman asks why I’m evasive,
Liana asks why I won’t just say
whatever it is that I’ve described
as terribly urgent.
Hunger separates people.
Fear does the same.
I’m afraid to share
my secret plan.
A raft.
The sea.
Escape.
What if Liana refuses to go with me?
What if refusing might save her life?
Can I imagine a future
alone?
¿Por qué?
Hunger Separates Siblings
Liana
I’m furious with Amado for failing
to trust me. Why does he keep secrets
when I’m more than willing to share
any burden?
Why?
After a summer of avoiding my parents
to prevent them from keeping track
of my movements, there’s a part of me
that’s so happy to see my brothers
at last.
We used to be close.
Now we’re remote.
Why do they whisper,
sketch tracks in beach sand,
study the glaring horizon
of sunlight
and heat?
Time Travel
Amado
While Liana stares at her brothers,
I chat with old friends, then casually
wander the roadsides,
intent on convincing
the secret police
that nothing has changed,
no message was received,
no scribbled note
from prison.
A herd of bony white cows
is guarded by young men and women
in military uniforms, bodies twig-shaped,
faces haggard, eyes resentful.
Will that be me if I stay on the island,
just a soldier assigned to tend cattle