Memories of Lola Conchita

If you could see me now, what would you say?

Remember those long summer days?

How little I appreciated
the pinch of your fingers
in the shadow of my thighs

I resented
the sound of your voice
the feel of the switch on my bottom

You in Nanay's kitchen
conjuring up secret delights
sweetmeats made out of melon rind

the sour santol
made sourer still

sugar could not mask
the bitter tang
of santol peel.

Years later, I look back and remember

your voice
singing forgotten
melodies, while I patiently

massage pale appendages
rendered motionless by time.

Graciano Lopez Jaena
you said to me when I told you
of the first time I was published.

And from some lost well, you dredged up
tales untold of this genius old man
wandering out of the house
with non-matching socks.

It's only natural
you said
you accepted my news with such aplomb

as if you'd seen it coming
all along.

And you traced for me
the lines of forgotten blood

(reasoning blood binds us
to our passions)

I still hear you enumerating the lines
of blood leading back somehow
to a great forgetful man.

Time goldened you.

I forgot to resent
your strictures
the ineccessant adherence
to discipline.

You told me tales
of your childhood

I could almost imagine
that big house
and you

a white skinned, mestiza princess
gulping down rich bonbons

You were so proud reliving those days

Of being
your father's favorite.

And I

I swallowed up your words
gulped down your memories
like chocolate

Years later
I tried to write about you
But the words never came.

Until today.

Looking at a portrait
of an old woman

I remember you

your words

your memories

your face


I carry them still
inside me.