After Lola dies,
my mother wears black
and carries a black umbrella.
Sweating it out, my mother
feels like she is doing penance.
As if sorrow is not
atonement enough.

*

I had long black hair
that reached past my waist.
I lopped it off when
I decided that I wanted
to look like a woman
instead of just a girl.

When my boyfriend
saw my freshly bobbed hair,
he wept.

*

I learned that black
made you look thinner,
and that you can now wear
black to weddings.
I don't think
I'm daring enough
to try.

*

Wearing black
during dry season is hard.
The dust kicks off,
sticks to your sweat-drenched
clothing.
My mother looked ashen,
like she had emerged from
the volcanic fields of Pinatubo.

*

When my hair was long,
I braided it.
It swung like a rope when
I walked.
Josh would unbraid it,
run his fingers through
the tangles,
feeling the dampness

*

I write with black ink pens.
Black ink seems to say
authority, self-assured.
Things which I am not.
At least, not always.

*

I touch the tomb of
my grandmother,
and all I can think is
It must be dark in there.

*

My mother had long hair
that reached past her waist
in early pictures of when
she first came to the U.S.

She said that when a woman
came up to her to touch it,
it started falling out.
From that point on,
she wore her hair short.

I don't remember
her ever with long hair.

*

When I was five,
a girl told me my eyes
were colored black.
When I said they
were brown,
she pointed to
her light colored irises
and said,
"I have brown eyes."

For years after that,
I thought of my eyes
as being the color
of black holes.

I told Josh this.
He laughed and said
"Your eyes are the
color of dark chocolate."

*

My mother stops wearing black
when she comes back to the U.S.
She receives a gift basket
from the office and a card
of sympathy.

In the province, my mother
received nods and bowed heads,
silence, prayers, blessings, and
lit candles as offerings.
The old women wore black veils
as a sign of respect.

My mother is glad not having
to wear black.
But she is a long way
from dusty roads and hot weather
and signs of grief.

She settles in, prepares for
the remaining part of winter.
On the other side of the world,
the prayers continue, mute
and wafting to the skies above.