Two Poems
Ruth Nakamura
Image by Pete Nuij
Fallen Body
This flower in the grass
distant from its stem
folds and canyons its unfurled color
preserved in the origami stiffness of its dying.
It lays forgotten as a small wad of colored tissue paper
fallen in the street after
the Marigold Parade,
remnant of Dia de los Muertos sugar skull floras,
candy hued
ruffled bloom of decay
deep purple flaunts
cradled in maroon
edged in paler tints of bone and lavender.
Let’s give this human tenderness
imagine lions would wear this in their manes
if they had human tendencies.
I would wear it in my name
perfume my wrist with this
if it had one drop of essence to give.
Forget the fresh daisy crowns of youth
the pliable stems,
leaves that ladle dew from dawn skies.
Give me this sun-dried flower at the edge of autumn,
throne of spiders
resplendent crown of elders.
Grandmother, Hummingbird
The hummingbird is a book of colors,
its wings are pages turned by flowers
who read its secrets,
a chronicle of vibrancy,
a rainbow’s advice.
I cannot get close enough to this knowledge
before this tiniest of birds shoots away
among cottonwood leaves,
a living spark, a firework,
and a memory is pulled forward,
Grandma with sickened blood, diseased cage,
rescuing a hummingbird
trapped in the oil scented garage,
her hands closed gently over its frantic heartbeat,
feathers of rain in a steepled cage of fingers.
Did her fingers read its secrets like Braille?
Did she begin to dream in colors we cannot know of,
flight and flowers, the way her spirit would transform
upon leaving her body?
The way it would soar, bloom, burst into light?
She opened her palms with an upward thrust,
sent her guide into the fresh open palace of sky,
it flew to cottonwood’s cool-tipped uppermost branches
though the garden hung heavy with roses,
petal and ozone scented.
When she went her own way,
paling in bed,
she was that hummingbird,
released, transmuting fear
into garnet-petaled opulence.
Ruth Nakamura
Ruth Nakamura is from the high desert where she grew up very attuned to nature in the Rio Grande valley. She co-wrote a book of poetry, titled Crow Moon, with her comadre Anna Griego, with whom she has shared poetry and friendship for many years. The book touches on themes of healing, mysticism, and magical realism that are both cultural and universal. Ofrenda Magazine published two of Ruth’s pieces, a creative non-fiction short essay titled “Ofrendas for Grandpa” and a poem, “Prayer,” in 2021, and her short essay titled “Poetry Is My Medicine, Our Healing” in 2022. Find Ruth on Instagram @veranotaos and @blackberrybramblebooks. You may purchase a copy of their poetry book, Crow Moon, at Barnes & Noble.