Olla Hirviendo

Sophia Falber, United States

My Abuela walks to the prison.

She’s prepared herself for this all morning,

sending her five boys off to school on the bus

and standing over a hot stove

in her unconditioned kitchen

preparing stew y arroz,

all to come here,

with a canister full of food

weary after hours of riding

the guaguas to take her to

the other side of the island.

This is where her husband lives.

He is a political prisoner,

put behind bars without trial

for conspiring against Castro’s regime.

He is guilty.

Patria o Muerte,

homeland or death,

the words waft out of

government-rationed food packets.

It’s been years of this,

their concerns a boiling pot

left on the stove for too long.

Patria y Vida, the citizens’

stomachs grumble in unison.

My grandfather’s mouth closes

on a spoonful of what I call,

ropa vieja without the beef

(it is nearly illegal in his country).

My grandmother’s lips move,

the words drip and join fallen drops of stew.

Sophia Falber is interested in all the weird and wonderful ways words work, regardless of the medium. Her work is particularly concerned with the commonplace, the strange, and the macabre. Sophia's work has been published in Hawai’i Pacific Review and Quibble Review and featured at St. Augustine PoetFest.