After Revolution

Sunlight on my eyes, the dead
among my feet. The sacks
of beans, the pumpkins piled in the shed.
Even the mice
speak of keeping in this time
of grief. A ditch like a dried-up
lake. Cobs bleaching, teeth.
And the shoveling.
Will I recognize you
—me—within the strata
of this new gathering?
In the streets,
fireworks kiss hello
a burning sky. Sparks
find their way back
into silver.
I catch my reflection in an open-
air market. The flaking skulls
of coconuts have two dulled eyes,
milk that may never flow.

Emmy Pérez
After Revolution is from Solstice (Swan Scythe Press, 2003), and originally appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Fall/Winter 2001, Vol. 7, Issue 1.