Image by Pete Linforth on Pixabay
Melissa Andrés is originally from Cuba, arrived in the United States at the age of six. She has worked as an educator and taught English as a second language. She holds an MFA in creative writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work has appeared in The Laurel Review, Rattle Magazine, The San Antonio Review, Ligeia Magazine, Inkwell Journal, Burningword Literary Journal, and elsewhere.
Yesteryear
My grandfather,
head bowed with hunger,
stood near the doorway of his thatched hut –
built on a remote hilltop
where orange peels float on water spirals
and reveal a plunge sparse in distance
of yesteryear, made by a comet
which roamed and formed our bond,
then never bothered to return or please,
ice and dust simply lunged forward, rose
toward dunes made massive by contempt
and vanished above a din of voices,
his, a whisper, and those of others
who never ceased to speak, and me,
left counting the specks of joy that remained.
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