A few scoops of warm rice and cuts of boiled meat. The banana leaf that wraps them. The oil to anoint. A few pieces of clothes to warm me in the middle of an unmoving river. A nugget to give the boatman when we reach the other shore. Strands of Mauricio’s hair after years of waiting in the grave. And his browned flesh adhered to his bones
the songs of sparrows
the comfort in the air
firefly stars