Poetry in vision

sunset is creeping his way across Haiti
and the magical waters extending out from the port
he is flattening the snake of evening cars
but my grandmother is oblivious to all of this

as we are standing in the narrow passage behind her house
she is telling me stories and I am laughing
tucked in the shadow between colors and concrete and coffee grinds
I am laughing at her story—
she’s told it to me one hundred times—
I always laugh because it is always funny to me
but I am thinking about the ocean
I can’t see it from here
tucked as we are in the narrow passage behind her house
but I know it’s there, glistening
and I want to know where it goes

my grandmother is pretending she’s not looking at me
she is telling her story
but I can see her watching me in the corner of her eye
and I can see she is thinking about everything just like I am
here in the shadow of sunset inching across Haiti