South Fork Poetry: ‘Day of the Dead, Oaxaca’
With bright eyes
we look out from photos;
beautiful and strong
beloved mother, sister,
wife, friend.
Why do you cry?
Were we really here?
You remember our warm breast
our soft lips.
The altar is laden
with sugar cakes
skulls with sequin eyes,
four-foot candles,
sentinels guarding
your memories —
the folly of attachment.
We leave behind
a whimsical smile,
a tender gaze.
Like tea from a broken cup,
seeping into the carpet,
we are absorbed again
into the universe.
Carol Sherman has just come out with a new collection of poems, “Adios, San Miguel.” She lives in East Hampton.