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Tamale
October 14, 2013
We sat in the parking lot of the hostel
and you ate a tamale.
I wanted to understand
your religion of the cosmos
when you craned your neck
to the sky all filled up with stars
and took another bite.
When you said it tasted good
you should know
that I wanted to leave Flagstaff
then and there, to drive three hours
across the Arizona border to Mexico,
peel the corn husks myself,
anoint the vegetables in oil,
sacrifice a chicken for your heart.
© Allison H., Vancouver, WA
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