poem: stacks

“Grief is the final act of love”

– Lauren London

take this sticky grief / and roll the dough of it
lay the masa down / use your bare hands /

it won’t be perfect / just make it something we can carry

we will go to abuelita’s house
she will show us how to round the pieces / how to flatten and stack / how to make sense of it

it will get too sticky again / but she has bags of masa from all the seasons she has seen. it will help.

you will find dead harvest on your clothes / for too long / remember this work when you beat it from yourself

you will feel sticky under your nails for too long / remember this work when you pick it from yourself

take this sticky grief to abuelita’s house / we will share it there / we will put our fingers to the fire / fill our plates / fill our stomachs / fill up / lean back our chairs /say / it’s too much / it hurts
it hurts / but remember

remember the soft before the stick / the grace before the filling / the yellow fields / the loving hands / the harvest / oh yes
how blessed such harvest