Nocturne in a Red House in Bocas del Toro
BY LILLIAN KWOK
She works in a red house, sells rice and beans
and chicken curry. Stirs pots
pours coffee all day. Men
came and went. Men
in their wooden boats going
to the next island not
further. The beating of the summer rains
is a kind of beating too. Likewise
a love
for the heavy palms. The dirt road
under her bare
feet. The taste of coconut water
from the man
who walks around town splitting
them with a machete
for less than a dollar. Easy
to swallow.
Into the mouth of the bull and
out of sight.
