Kept

I was so thirsty, you cracked

an egg into my mouth. I ate it

& thanked you. We were so

rich then. I imagined the moon,

a being I’d never seen, in every nail

you’d use to tack the tarp

over our heads. I confused

hens clucking for the ringing

of the phone you’d never

let me answer. With a spatula

to my ear, I’d pretend to be

a woman on TV & say:

¿Bueno? Your anger

was the gun you kept by the door,

my fear, the knife I used to chop

onions. One night you confused

the sound of a snake rattling

for rain. The snake opened

its jaw & its fangs were the color

of mud. You reached for my thighs

just before you died & I couldn’t

face you. Once you stopped

breathing I rubbed your beard

between my hands

& played the most beautiful

cumbia. We danced

for the first time since our wedding.