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The Legal Studies Forum
Volume 30, Number 1/2 (2006) reprinted by permission Legal Studies Forum Lawyers & Poets Scenes | | Dreams BESSY REYNA ___________________ Ukiyo-e Lady in the Snow In the middle of the storm the red umbrella keeps the snow away from her face. She is Eizan's ukiyo-e lady sentenced to stand in the harbor forever. Hair pulled back, waist tied by an obi, she turns her back to the sea. This winter morning how I want to look like her, the elegant stance, the perfect neck. Hear the wind fondle the black and gold kimono as I stand barefoot in the snow. [715]
The Boys I Loved (and who loved me) Had no beards, spoke softly, had gentle hands except for Ricardo, who once threw a punch defending my honor and ended up in the emergency room. Since then, the middle finger of his right hand wore a scar with my name on it. We never kissed because I dated his brother who went on to commit suicide. Later, Ricardo and I fell in love with the same girl. He got to have her. I never did. There were other boys. Kisses at the movies, long car rides ending up at lovers' lanes overlooking the ocean. One boy loved the rain because our breath would fog the windows, a private curtain covering desire. I loved the foreigner who showed me the sky, whispered the names of constellations while our heads rested in each others' arms. His brother brought me flowers, made me feel like a movie star. One boy liked to sit on the old sofa on the front porch of his small house and kissed me while his grandmother slept in a room nearby. There was a U.S. soldier stationed in Panama I almost married. The Army transferred him. In God I must trust. But my favorites were the gay boys who never talked about marriage and children, who didn't want to own me. My best companions who loved to dance, design clothes, party and have fun— the ones I truly loved even after I lost them one by one to love, or whatever it was called that we felt in those days. [716]
Daydreaming I should look for my favorite flower in this lush garden, count the blooms and in true Latin fashion, go out and play that number in the lottery. I should look at the shades of green, listen to birdsongs and once satisfied that I can tell the difference between them, count those, too. During our last visit, my mother opened the door to her past a crack to tell me the story of uncle Francisco and the lottery. Eighty years ago my older brother Francisco kept a chicken. One morning numbers appeared on an egg so clear that he went out and bought them in the lottery. What a chicken! I thought. My mother told this story as if it's the most natural thing in the world. To this day she remembers the last two numbers— 7 and 5—which became the family's lucky numbers. With his winnings, Francisco built a house for the whole family. They lived together: Grandma (the widow), three sons, three daughters, plus Francisco, his wife and son (the adopted one). Now I think that maybe I should go to the refrigerator and inspect the eggs inside the cardboard box from a free range farm in New Hampshire. If I win, one thing worries me: How big my house should be? For how many? [717]
She Thinks of a Photo She thinks she was there once, a little girl with long blond curls and no shirt. She thinks she stood next to a tall palm tree. She thinks there was a photo. At times, she can still see the beauty of the sky, clouds about to burst, the ocean in the distance. She thinks she was smiling, her face not yet printed with permanent frowns under passionless clouds. She wonders if she is dreaming. There is no one left to tell her otherwise. [718]
Bessy Reyna is an opinion columnist at the Hartford Courant, editor of Latin Arte News, and for fifteen years worked as Assistant Reporter of Judicial Decisions at the Connecticut Judicial Branch. Born in Cuba and raised in Panama, Reyna came to the U.S. to attend college. She is a graduate of Mt. Holyoke College and received her J.D. from the University of Connecticut. Reyna has published three collections of poetry, Terrarium (Instrucción Programada de México, 1975), She Remembers (Andrew Mountain Press, 1997), and The Battlefield of Your Body (El Campo De Batalla De Tu Cuerpo)(Hill Stead Museum, 2005), and a collection of Spanish language short stories, Ab Ovo (Instituto Nacional de Cultura, Panama, 1977). "Ukiyo-E Lady in the Snow" was first published in Connecticut Review. The poems here are from Bessy Reyna, The Battlefield of Your Body (El Campo De Batalla De Tu Cuerpo)(Hill Stead Museum, 2005). |
