Amelia Díaz Ettinger

Just in Case, Por Si Acaso
My Children’s Children

with their American blue eyes, have never seen
the cocky rooster scratching the base of a guayaba tree
nor the seedy-pulp laden with fructose and worms

they will never know the many flavors
of a grapefruit ripened in the morning sun
or how the number of aguacates
can predict la tormenta, the storm

nor will they hear a sunrise serenada
from a love-sick novio with a rented guitar,
or the syncopated calls of parents when it’s time
for home, for rest, or the callers selling panapén

they won’t dream in the frog’s dream
or his dance in a sudden rainstorm
or how the month of mayo brings beauty to a face
or the power of La Rogativa

peor and worse

how they will never know that la iguana
twirls at the sight of red and yellow gumdrops
or the name of the Smooth-bill ani that smokes
and cusses a black streak of familiar malas palabras

while the familia plays dominos
deep into the night with Cuba Libres
whose Coke diminishes with each tab, but not the rum,
while vinyl blares rumbas and merengue,

and the vital beso,

the kiss, on the cheek every time we saw
each other, regardless of sex or preference
and how we called everyone primo just because
it was an habitual face, and that an excess
of la comida was made —por-si-acaso

and, of course, all the primos came bearing ghosts,
like Guanina, discarded tales of old skirmishes
no one remembers the Spanish war
and how delicately we greeted them
with offerings of alcholado and salts from our soil

or how we threw water at year’s end
with the same passion as reciting
el rosario, for the departed who sat on the pew
holding manos with the living

or el billete de la lotería that held la promesa
of a game that could turn fate
and steadfast land and river
so we could wake up again and again
under the canopy of a mosquito net

so much covered in the rusted tin
of passage and yet, like mangoes’gutli
sometimes discarded but sometimes allowed
to germinate

por-si-acaso

Amelia Díaz Ettinger is a Latinx BIPOC poet and writer. Amelia’s poetry and short stories have been published in anthologies, literary magazines, and periodicals. She has an MS in Biology and MFA in creative writing. Her literary work is a marriage of science and her experience as an immigrant. Presently, she resides in Eastern Oregon.