by Lucia Orellana Damacela

The long black coat hangs in the armoire
            heavy with silence
decades of un-wornness
a lifetime in the tropics
gathered in the seams

Dead at eighty-six
she never returned
to her woolen-some place

            Or did she?

Bed-ridden for a year
what if once set free
      she flew
to the brown green mountains
her eyes took the color from
saw the intact    unclouded    un-cataracted
blue sky?

Better than imagining grandma’s
soft stare hanging on forever
within some colorless
paneled walls

      Or not.

(From Sea of Rocks, Unsolicited Press, 2018)

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