When the corn refuses        its own echo,

                             and the rivers


want to be honest about depressed mothers,

the bones refuse to speak in any language.

Once I opened my mouth

                                     and a storm of crows rushed in.


I wanted to save a piece of my mother’s hair  as proof

                                   that she once lived,


but her scorched hair      fell apart in my hands.

Even the corn

                                                knows this. 


My mother believed in the sermons of boats. One time,

she extended her arms to hug the river, but


                                       she only heard the foghorns behind her.


The crows love fire, love the alphabet in sad hearts.                        

The lilacs have learned to avoid fire


                                       especially when the river calls in its crows,


when the night’s cup fills with ash.

Eva Skrande grew up in Cuba and Miami, Florida. She is the author of Bone Argot (Spuyten Duyvil, 2019) and My Mother’s Cuba (River City Publishing, 2010). Her poems have appeared in Agni, Clockwise Cat, SurVision, Visions International, Anatolios Magazine, 8 Poems, and the bilingual magazine Alternative Publications, among others. She has received fellowships from the University of Houston, the Inprint Foundation, and the Houston Arts Alliance. She has taught for Writers in the Schools, the University of Houston, and Houston Community College. She currently teaches Creative Writing and lives in Houston with her husband and daughter.