winter solace

published in Transcendence Magazine

“I gave him the persimmons,
  swelled, heavy as sadness,
  and sweet as love.”
                                    - Li Young Lee
As if the clouds
have fallen to
the ground, stacked
like piles of blankets.

I can see
the footprints
stomped into the snow,
footprints zigzagging--
one ahead of the other.
Pairs of trails
intersecting
like poorly
mapped roads.

These are the winters in Kearns,
                 too cold to withstand.
El abrigo. The hot chocolate.
Los besos en la mañana--
            my mother’s green eyes scanning
            my figure to make sure I had more
            layers of clothing than bare skin.

These are the winters in Treasure Valley,
           full of solace in
           fog & hibernating wishes
           over frozen bridges.
This is where I learned how
            to produce heat with
my frail brown hands,
            where I learned how
to distinguish shadows and
            the steam of my breath.
This is where Mexicans keep
            their sun gods in shrines,
where there is a slow hum in every casita.

These are winters in South Tucson,
            brimming with shivering saguaro
            & an absence of sun.

There are only solstice showers
            & the splendor
            of frost over
            my lawn’s surface

as if the clouds
have fallen to
the ground, spread
like icing on pan dulce.

© Enrique García Naranjo, 2015