Dinner at the Morales'

 

Dinner at the Morales'

living room couches red
polyester velvet, sporting
thick vinyl slipcovers
and a pulsing Heart of Jesus
(blood for the pious)
in pride of place over a television set
too large for the room
vinyl lace doilies on the formica table
with frilly paper napkins, ninety nine cents
at the bodega,
the centerpiece wax fruit
good enough to eat
the menú fried overripe plantains,
white rice, lechón, spicy
yet sweet with sour orange
marinade, Fidel's last speech,
the Clinton morals,
the crucifixion of St. Richard Nixon
with the black beans, sprinkled
with minced onions, Sunday dinner
salted with cubano phrases,
the words of the abuelos
mouthed by granddaughters
on their way to salsa
the hot latina sauce, always with garlic
the swaying of hips
ample buttocks in swishing skirts
a bit too much colorete on the cheeks
but all is well, what abuela doesn't know
won't hurt her, papi would die if johnny
mi novio, johnny, el gringo, he calls him
this is the melting pot,
second generation maybe
we're melted, saramambiches
take away your pride
mami cries at night when no one's looking
washes the dishes, tears and Palmolive
picture of cerulean sky over hatted
mountains, the sea an amalgam of colors
the sand confectioner's sugar
palm trees swaying in the wind
royal and tall, mami outside the duplex
welcome to miami, looking for god
freedom, country, all the reasons
for exile, for the wet klínex,
for the desesperación
hanging over the velvet living room
like abuela's aspidistra,
so green it looks fake over the kitchen sink
next to the parsley and cilantro
in little cans of salsa de tomate
she washes and fills with good
mayami soil, because the streets are hard
and you can't waste nada, niña,
when I was a girl I walked barefoot to school
dos kilómetros, under the hot sun,
after cleaning the hard dirt floor
in the bohío where we lived
in Santa Clara; I had good shoes for sunday,
for god and the iglesia, and for mi novio
when he came to call, fresh-pressed
guayabera smelling of clean man, of agua de
lavanda, of love, of kisses stolen
while taking down the sheets at sundown
behind the house, palm trees rustling, sunday
with mantilla father do forgive me
for I have sinned
ave maría purísima, amen Jesús