2nd Place winner of the poetry contest: abuelo's flowers - Emily Lupita

                                              - Davenport, Iowa
​After Abuelo’s funeral, the women went to the kitchen
and the men went out to the garden to sit and drink café.
The kids ran around the house: arriba, abajo, afuera, dentro.

As I rushed past the kitchen, I overheard the women talking.
They were making mole, chile, salsa, tortillas, and sopa de fideo.
I heard a woman weep as she told the story of how the mortician

in Iowa couldn’t believe the dead Mexican had such nice teeth, real teeth.
He thought they were dentures, used pliers and a knife,
tried to mask his mistake by sewing shut my grandfather’s lips.

As I flew into the dining room, my cousins pulling me by the hem
of my blue dress, I could’ve sworn I saw Abuelo’s missing teeth
fall from Heaven and land, one by one, in the sopa. Mama’s face

was hidden in her hair as she turned from the elaborate table filled
with arroz con pollo, enchiladas potosinas, and pan dulce. Mama
stared out the window to her father’s flower garden.

“He loved rosas, margaritas, violetas and begonias,” she said, and
I knew she could feel her father beneath the soil preparing to live
again as his favorite flowers, grown tall, bursting with color

Spanish translation: arriba, abajo, afuera, dentro: up, down, outside, inside mole, chile, salsa, tortillas, sopa de fideo: sauce, peppers, salsa, tortillas, noodle soup               Abuelo: Grandfather arroz con pollo, enchiladas potosinas, pan dule: rice with chicken, enchiladas from San Luis Potosí, sweet bread rosas, margaritas, violetas, begonias: roses, daisies, violets, begonias