by Millicent Borges Accardi
There was a boat, there were many boats,
patterned after a fashion into a fleet.
There were Portuguese widows who prayed
and those who sang of sailors and their strong sea,
amid the sky that we wore like a cape.
There was a yellow radiance of sunset and how
it used to be. Please, ask me, husband, and I will bring
you a cup of Vinho Verde. It is what is done
when there are no answers. It is what we do
and what we have always done. There is a storm
gone blind against the curves of the land
we fall into. Tears over the bow of a ship
ashore, gone at sea for years. We wail and
throw our hands against the blanched wood
because that is what grief is, a primary feeling
that must be exposed. Glow, Storm. Blind.
Our men are an assault on we who wait
for them, as they travel to exotic lands,
deciding not to return to a way of life
that left them long before they unpacked
the dry bread in a cotton bag that we
sent along with them on their blessed journeys.
Millicent Borges Accardi, a Portuguese-American writer, is the author of three poetry books, most recently Only More So (Salmon Poetry, Ireland). Her awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), Fulbright, CantoMundo, Creative Capacity, the California Arts Council, The Corporation of Yaddo, Fundação Luso-Americana, and Barbara Deming Foundation. She curates the Loose Lips and Kale Soup poetry reading series.
Salmon Poetry Collection: Only More So @ Amazon
http://www.MillicentBorgesAccardi.com
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