by Dena Rash Guzman

All day I consort with the earth.
tobacco pouch, rolling papers, light.
                    Without constance there’d be chaos.

                                        I get paid today.


I’m not a woman without pain.
No woman is. Pain is history,
                    Today’s blood on tomorrow’s
                                        bloody floor.

My house is gray. My soil is rich. 

The soldiers advance. I carry ammo.

                    I know where to hide.
                                        I prepare.

I see the news.
I consult the forest.

Back to the Issue