for my Abuelita

On the scuffed kitchen
table, a small stack of coins
and pink pesos. Sweet

coconut flesh left
on a plate, plunder for flies.
An amber ashtray

with a cigarette
still spinning smoke. A woman
slumbers in the chair,

one hand on swollen
belly, the other hand slack
on her thigh. Beneath

her, the floor littered
with tinted nylons and knocked-
over heels. Effort

evident in her
red lips, her eyelids dusted
and winged. Evening's gold

illuminates her
blush tent dress. The bruises like
beads around her neck.