DIG

Doom
Settles on her tongue
Dry and thick.

She licks
Swallows
Savors

The acrid bite of ash
Left of her brother's bones.

Her lips
Curl back
In a crooked wince
With coarse drivel
Muddled into clay
Running down the folds of her cheeks.

Abuela has buried us all in her mouth.
Beneath tooth and gum
We rest  

She scrapes the crusted mortar from her chin
With her father's chisel,
Corroded and caked in rust
Trying to smooth the crows' feet from her eyes

Quien soy? she weeps into the mirror
Quien soy? she asks the face looking back
Quien es?

"Who is she? This old woman in my house?"