Sweet and Low

It’s 7 p.m. Jeopardy is on TV.

She is chomping furiously

on chicken, stabbing her index finger

at the air shouting wrong questions

at frazzled contestants.

Who is Karl Lagerfeld?

She used to drive me crazy.

With her tended cloud of short

gray curls, the rhythmic circling

of her fingers when she waited.

As I grow older and less stupid

she creeps into my bones

silent and warm, my love

solidifies. I watch her while

making the tea

she will soon request.

She calls me. She thrusts

her almost empty plate

in my direction

with chicken bones

chewed into dust.

Bring my tea Girl. Don’t forget my sweet and low.

I haven’t forgotten in thirty years.

Fifteen years on and all that’s left of her

are knickknacks on a shelf.

A few pink packets are tucked

on my bookshelf

Her grandson chews his chicken bones

into dust.

Yael Valencia Aldana is a Caribbean Afro-Latinx writer and poet. She earned her M.F.A. In creative writing from Florida International University. Her work has appeared in The Human Prospect and South Florida Poetry Journal and is upcoming in Miniskirt Magazine. And she is an Associate Editor in Creative Nonfiction at West Trade Review journal. She lives in South Florida with her son and too many pets.