Poetry Corner: “My Grandmother’s Hands” By Angelus

Mix
Spread
Wrap
Steam
Follow the smell of her memories
Follow the smell of her Aztec genes
Cracking the walnuts one by one—
easier said than done
The lines on her hands—
highways to her heart
Lost in translation—
pathways torn apart
Pineapple juice drying on her skin
As the recipe stains her spirit—
stains her next of kin
Wrinkled are her dreams—
coiled in her hand
Soft are her memories—
callous is the land
The raisins once shriveled—
pumped back with new life
Now imprison their juices—
like the tears of this housewife
The star anise guides her tongue
Her ageless palate—
forever young
Bound by love—
what her heart understands
A sweet Christmas tamale—
from my Grandmother’s hands

Angelus is a poet living on the outskirts of Joshua Tree National Park. She felt called to move to the desert upon her first visit in 2018. Her poetry explores the ethereal nature of the soul and its exquisite capacity to love. She is currently working on her debut collection of poetry, Notes2TheSelf. You can find her on Instagram @Notes2theself.

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