Ashley Inguanta and Sheila Squillante build bridges between past, present, and future in this jointly-written poem–a first for the Good Men Project!
My great grandmother died while looking at the world through a window.
The curtains, though she couldn’t have known this, considered her back.
And my grandfather, he fled from something great;
cabbage palms, red ants, panic and her still hands, open as lace
and hard as my muscle, The Future,
an actual place to visit or avoid, strewn with
a pole dancer beauty, my mouth, the house that is now nothing but a dream.
Razed and raised, shuttered and shuttering. Each landscape, filigreed like
my lover’s voice, distant, and I hope
as bright and bracing as her last glance, his last exhortation:
Why? Window. Why? Hands. Why? Panic and filigree and fire ants swarming
and a woman loved only so much as the world now turned without her.
Interested in submitting poetry to The Good Men Project? Check out our guidelines.
Like The Good Men Project on Facebook
Photo by Spyros Papaspyropoulos /Flickr